Destiny's Path
by Aradia17
Summary: AU: Voldemort has returned. Dumbledore has a plan woven around an ancient prophecy, a plan which requires four enemies to unite. Harry, Ron, Hermione and Draco will face war, love, deciet and darkness. Who will learn, who will love, and who will survive?
1. Destiny's Encounters

**A/N:** So, here stands the new, revised version of Destiny's Path. It's only taken me several years to do this, so let's all be proud. :-) Getting this piece up to the standard I'd like it to be at will require extensive editing, a decent amount of re-writing, and a lot of time. It will be a chapter-by-chapter process, but I'll press on through, and by the end of summer 2006, this undertaking will be finished. The old version had a lot of errors, and considering I wrote it when I was 13, I can understand why. Now, at age 17, this is my attempt to correct said errors, and for anyone who tried and failed to read this story before, I hope you'll give it another shot. Thanks.

1 

Destiny's Encounters

"_I'm standing here alone_

_The memories remain_

_The same familiar home_

_But nothing looks the same."_

_--Trust Company_

**R**ain pounded the glass of the windows of the Hogwarts Express with enough force to make them rattle as the train pulled along, slower than usual due to the darkness and harsh conditions. The darkness of the night outside was no more normal than the train's speed. It was a deeper, harsher blackness that seemed to envelop you in a never-ending night as soon as you entered it. The deep gray clouds shielded the moon and stars, leaving a darkness that was penetrated only minimally by the light pouring from the train windows. The weather outside fit the students' moods perfectly. Normally, on the ride to Hogwarts the students were raucous and excited, happy and loud. People ran to and from cars, stuffing themselves with junk food, playing pranks, and yelling. No matter what the teachers did, the mood was never dampened.

Not tonight, though. Tonight, the students sat in their own cars, not frequently crossing the threshold into others. The only sound came from the movement of the train, the quiet talking of the students, and the rain. Even under normal circumstances, there would have been a definite decline in the pranks pulled due to the absence of the Weasley twins, both of whom had graduated from Hogwarts last year. Had they been there, they would have been grandly disappointed at the fact that no one even thought of playing pranks that night. Happiness seemed to be long abandoned and the feeling hovering in the air was a melancholy one.

In one car, near the back of the train, three students were seated. One was a fifteen-year-old girl who sat curled up on a seat of her own, a schoolbook propped open in front of her as she munched on a Cauldron Cake. Two others, boys of the same age, sat across from her. One of the boys was polishing a broomstick while the other stared out the train window into the dark black beyond. Though all of them kept up their facades of normalcy, it was apparent that their hearts were not in it.

Harry Potter sat down his Firebolt on the floor and its movement blended with the train's, vibrating in an unsteady manner. He tucked away the polishing kit and looked up. Neither of his friends had moved. Hermione Granger was still staring determinedly at her book, which would normally have been quite an average sight. However, Harry had been watching her, and the normally fast reader had been staring blankly at the same page for fifteen minutes, her eyes unmoving. He looked over at Ron Weasley. Ron noticed his friend's gaze and met Harry's eyes. He was expressionless and when he spoke, breaking the silence for the first time in over an hour, his voice was just as toneless as his face had been. "Time to change into our school robes, I reckon. We should almost be there by now."

No one moved, though Hermione did look up, apparently confused. Harry and Ron had no doubt she'd been lost in her thoughts until Ron had spoken.

Harry scowled. "This is rather ridiculous, guys. We haven't seen or spoken to each other for an entire summer, and now I'm wondering if we're going to talk at all during the school year, either."

Hermione looked a bit shocked. "But, Harry, you can't tell us you aren't scared. You, of all people . . ."

"I'm not happy," Harry said in a distant voice. "But I'm not terrified, either. The fact is, this is what he wants: terror, mayhem, disruption. We're giving it to him. If we can't fight him mentally, we certainly can't do it physically."

Ron remained quiet and looked back out the window. Hermione and Harry exchanged knowing glances of sympathy for their friend.

Voldemort was back. He'd returned to full strength the year before, at the final event of the Triwizard Tournament. Harry had witnessed it. It was not until recently that Voldemort had acted, though, but he hit hard when he finally did. One week before, there had been a Ministry conference in eastern England, the point of which was to discuss the impending threat of Voldemort's return. Death Eaters had swarmed the conference about halfway through. The final death toll was thirty-two—men and women from all different departments of the Ministry. Cornelius Fudge had been present, but had amazingly managed to escape the destruction and horror, along with twenty-seven others. Ron's brother Percy had attended the conference, and had not been so lucky.

Throughout his years at Hogwarts, Ron had always made sure all of Gryffindor knew he hated his brother. He'd frequently described his older sibling as annoying, egotistical, power-hungry, arrogant, and a disciplinarian. He'd always supported--even helped--Fred and George when they bewitched his Prefect and Head Boy badges, or when they played pranks on him. He never missed a chance to put Percy down, but in spite of that, he had always loved his brother. Losing Percy had torn him apart inside, and had done the same to his entire family. Ron wasn't letting his pain show to his friends—or so he thought. Despite his illusion of normalcy, his grief showed in his distant stares, his silence, and his refusal to eat anything. So far, Harry and Hermione had been careful not to say anything to him.

The whole of Hogwarts was frightened by this recent act of terror. Many that now attended Hogwarts had not been alive during Voldemort's first reign, and none, had they even been born, were old enough to remember. This was all new and terrifying to them. The only ones who had any idea of the type of terror Voldemort could inspire were Harry, Hermione, Ron, and Ginny.

In an effort to escape the depressing, anguished feeling that had come over them, Hermione stood. She picked up her Hogwarts robe and slipped into it. She had already been wearing the typical gray uniform so that this was all she had to do, aside from putting on the tie, which she decided to do later.

Just as she was shrugging into the redlined black robe that proudly bore the Gryffindor lion, she heard the door slide open behind her. She was startled, as the only people to stop by all day had been Ginny and the snack lady, both of whom had departed hours before. She spun around and felt herself grow even more surly and melancholy. Draco Malfoy stood just inside the door, smirking. He hadn't bothered to close the doors, allowing the icy chill and rain to sweep inside. Hermione expected Crabbe and Goyle to step in at any moment, but for once in his Hogwarts career, they didn't flank him.

Harry and Ron turned to look at him in loathing and disgust. Ron appeared nervous, as Hermione and Harry could tell instantly. They knew that Ron was still in too much pain to care about sticking up for himself. He was just hoping that Malfoy hadn't come there to further his anguish.

Instead of turning immediately to Ron, as they'd expected, Malfoy turned to Hermione, his cold eyes boring into hers. "Granger, Granger, Granger," he said in a mock-disappointed tone. "Stripping for Potter and Weasley? Didn't think you had it in you." He looked her up and down. "Does it cost to see the show?"

Hermione stiffened and glared at Malfoy witheringly. "You're disgusting, Malfoy. Keep your indecent assertions to yourself."

"You sure speak highly for a Mudblood," he sneered.

She sighed and rolled her eyes skyward. "Oh, ouch," she said sarcastically. "That hurts so much as you say it for the four thousandth time."

He feigned innocence and concern, all the while a teasing glint danced in his eyes. "Oh, I just meant that it must be most unsettling to be a Mudblood right now, what with You-Know-Who on the rise again. You know how much he hates Muggle-borns. I'd hate to see anything happen to you just because of your parentage."

She narrowed her eyes and sat back down, picking up her book defiantly. "If that was supposed to be a threat, it was weak. Go away."

"Have it your way, then," he said, turning to Harry and Ron, who had been watching the whole exchange silently, knowing better than to jump in unless Hermione needed their help. "Well, Potter. Looks like everyone's been overestimating you for the past fifteen years, huh? '_The_ _Boy_ _Who_ _Lived'_, '_The_ _Boy_ _Who_ _Conquered_ _the_ _Dark_ _Lord'_. What rubbish. You just delayed Voldemort—you didn't destroy him. Some big hero you are. You even provided him with what he needed last year to come back to power. What a disappointment."

Harry stood still as a stone, his face relaying no emotion until Malfoy had finished. Finally he spoke, an icy edge to his voice. "Better to have delayed him than to have done nothing at all, Malfoy."

"Is it, though? Is it, if he comes back even more powerful than before?" Malfoy sidestepped Harry, feeling he'd inflicted his desired damage. He finally set his sights on Ron. Harry and Hermione watched silently, waiting to jump in, feeling they would be needed.

"Weasley, long time no see," Malfoy said in a sickeningly sweet voice. He pulled a Daily Prophet out of his robes and tossed it on Ron's lap. "Brought you a present." Ron looked down at the front page, read the headline, saw the picture, and tossed the paper back at Malfoy, who batted it aside. Hermione and Harry looked down to where it had landed and saw an animated picture of the Dark Mark hovering over the meeting hall where Voldemort had attacked, followed by the bold headline: "_You-Know-Who_ _Returns_".

Ron and Malfoy's eyes had remained locked the whole time. "I just thought you might want to clip the article. I know a lot of people do that when their relatives make the papers."

Hermione stood up furiously and Malfoy turned to look at her. "Well, then you must have a large collection of articles. There sure have been a lot mentioning You-Know-Who and the Death Eaters in the past two decades."

Malfoy's eyes narrowed dangerously. "Is there an implication in your words, Granger? Because if there is, spit it out."

Hermione feigned an apologetic tone. "Oh, I'm so sorry, Malfoy, so sorry indeed. I should have known you'd be too thick to pick out the implication for yourself. I'll be blunt—you're scum. You're a Slytherin, you're one of the leading Death Eaters' sons, and I'm pretty certain you're a Death Eater yourself. You support You-Know-Who; you support his murders, his torture, and his pain. You're as bad as your father and that's saying something, because your father is almost as bad as You-Know-Who himself!"

Malfoy took a step towards Hermione, putting them so close that they could feel one another's breath. "And you are a filthy Mudblood who pals around with poor, Muggle-loving wimps and loser glory-hounds. You might as well be a Muggle yourself, because you're no use to wizarding kind." His eyes traveled scornfully to the Gryffindor emblem on the front of her robes. "No Gryffindor is. Bravery is certainly not one of your traits; you're too afraid to even say Voldemort's name! I'll tell you one thing, though, Granger: you've made an enemy out of me. Before, all I could do was complain, and tease you, and get you in trouble. Now, though . . . well, let's just say I have connections."

"Your father, you mean," she replied acidly.

He made no response, but a faint glimmer in his eyes told her she was right. "All I need to do is let it slip that a certain Mudblood named Hermione Granger is meddling in certain things she shouldn't be, and those connections will take great pleasure in ridding me of the problem."

Hermione stared at him without any change of expression. "Tell your father and whomever else you plan to send after me that I do not fear you, or them, or _Voldemort_," she said calmly, stressing the last word and refraining from the flinch that normally would have accompanied it.

"There's a line you need to tread between courage and insanity. You've crossed that line, I'm afraid. You're plenty scared, Granger, because you know I'll do as I said. And trust me, my connection would love to kill you—and I assure you it would be a very unpleasant death."

"Tell your connection to try. I do not intend to be scared away by you, or anyone else," Hermione said defiantly, stepping away from him. "And I'd advise you to stay away from me, for my own safety and yours. I won't hesitate to hurt you, should we come upon each other in a deserted corridor, and should the opportunity strike my fancy. I'm sure most teachers would be more willing to take my side." She turned her back on him and faced Harry and Ron, who'd been watching the whole exchange with bated breath, waiting to attack should the necessity arise. "Now, leave, Malfoy. You're not welcome here."

The truth struck Malfoy and he spun, looking astounded. She truly wasn't afraid of him! He'd been raised in fear, seeing pain and torture every day of his childhood. When he'd grown old enough, instead of being the victim of the fear and the pain, he became the one that administered it. Whenever he'd chosen to truly use what he'd learned, his victim was afraid—_always_. Knowing that Hermione Granger—a girl, and a Mudblood no less—did not fear him angered him beyond his deepest imaginings. He'd teach her that he meant what he said. He raised his wand before anyone could stop him, before he could even truly think it through himself. "_Jevolosia_!" he yelled.

Hermione was suddenly flying through the air. She kept going until she slammed hard into the far wall of the train car. She dropped to the ground and lay there, motionless.

Malfoy had lost himself, back through endless childhood training. This was what he was meant for: causing pain and harming others. Why not experiment on Granger? He'd been dying to for years. Harry and Ron's presence had been driven completely from his mind. It was as though he were outside himself, watching from above, and Potter and Weasley were invisible. Granger lay on the floor, helpless, hurt, and all he wanted to do was finish her off. Oddly, the strangest thing he saw was not himself standing with his wand pointed at her still figure—he didn't see himself at all. Instead he saw his father.

He raised his wand again, his mind processing nothing but the desire to hurt, to kill. "_Cruci_—"

"_Expelliarmus_!"

Malfoy's wand flew from his hand and into Harry's. He suddenly awakened to his surroundings, remembering where he was, _who_ he was, what he'd been about to do. He was quite aware of Harry and Ron's wands on him as he stood there. Both boys' faces were contorted in fury.

Harry looked at him in unhidden loathing. "You're too much of a coward to even have a proper duel. Attacking while her back was turned! And you were going to use the Cruciatus Curse on her! You can't fight fair _or_ clean! What next? Avada Kedavera?" Harry nodded toward the door and tossed Malfoy his wand, which he deftly caught. "Get out before I call a teacher, which I swear I'll do. She better not be hurt. That curse you aimed at her better not have done anything more than throwing her through the air, or I won't bother with a teacher—I'll kill you myself. Only I'll have the integrity to do it the proper way. Leave now."

"Dying to," he said, though he himself was a little unsettled. He moved to the doors and pulled them open. Turning back, he saw that Ron was still pointing his wand at him. Harry was now kneeling by Hermione, who was sitting up. "Believe me now, Granger?" he yelled back, and then headed away from them into the darkness.

Harry watched as Hermione sat up. She groaned in pain and put her hand to her forehead. Her eyes held a dazed, pained look. "You okay?" Harry asked.

"Define okay," she said dryly. "My head is throbbing awfully, I'll have black and blue skin by tomorrow morning, and that spell made me so nauseas I want to vomit. If that's your definition, I'm okay."

Harry grinned at her. Ron walked over to join them and helped her to her feet. "That low-down scum. He hadn't the right to say anything he did to you. Why he seems more vindictive towards you now than us is a mystery only time will solve."

"It's obvious, Ron," Hermione said dismissively. "I was provoking him more than you tonight, and he hated me for it. Also, I let him know I wasn't afraid of him, which irked him. Lastly, I'm positive he's a Death Eater now, and all Death Eaters hate Muggle-borns. No surprise he'd be worse to me than usual. Particularly cocky, I'll bet he is, now that his master's back and more powerful." She looked out the door Malfoy had just used to exit. "He meant what he said."

Harry didn't bother denying what he thought. "Yeah, I think he did. But don't worry. You can take him, and no matter how good his contacts are, they can't get inside Hogwarts."

Hermione shook her head, which she stopped quickly, as it caused her a splitting headache. "I don't know anymore, Harry. There was a time when I'd have agreed with you without a second thought, but that time has passed. With You-Know-Who around, and Dumbledore's fight with the Minister of Magic . . . I just can't be certain of anything anymore, including our safety at Hogwarts."

Soon after the encounter with Malfoy, the train pulled to a stop and the cars were filled with the teachers' yells to exit the train in an orderly manner. The three teenagers pulled their luggage off the train, running through the rain to one of the horse-drawn carriages they were to take to the castle. For once, they didn't pause to say hello to Hagrid since they were some of the first off the train, and he wasn't yet out there. Though it was only been a short run from the train to the carriage, they were all soaked by the time they pulled the door shut and the carriages took off toward the castle.

"I can't imagine having to go back to classes," Ron said worriedly. "Learning Transfiguration and Divination and Potions and all that just seems so pointless now. I don't think I can take the whole school giving me pity stares every day. Not everyone's as considerate as you two. I'd rather be teased by Malfoy than have everyone coming up to me telling me how sorry they are when it really doesn't matter to them."

"Classes aren't pointless, Ron," Hermione said sternly. "Now more than ever we need them. We need to know as much as we can to defend ourselves if the time comes when we need to."

"Figures you'd defend classes," he said, smiling a little to show he was only kidding her.

"Don't worry, it'll be all right," Harry said reassuringly. "Classes might actually be a welcome escape. You know, to get your mind off things. I know it'll help Hermione. I think it'll help me. Maybe it'll help you, too."

Ron shrugged dejectedly and turned his face sideways to look out the window. "Yeah, maybe," he said quietly, and both his friends knew that the conversation had ended.

Harry looked to Hermione. "Looking forward to the feast?" It was a lame attempt at conversation, he knew, but he felt he had to do something to keep the awful silence from descending once more.

"Not really," she said in a flat tone. "I figure it will be quite depressing, just like last year's feast after poor Cedric . . ." She stopped, knowing Harry still felt a little guilty about Cedric, though he never showed it. "Never mind. I just don't think anyone will be up to laughing and talking and having fun. It will be depressing, and I'm depressed enough, so I wish I could simply skip it."

She, too, turned her attention to the window, though Harry knew neither she nor Ron could see anything but blackness.

"Come on, Herm," Harry said gently. "You can't honestly allow Malfoy to scare you. He's full of it. Just forget about him."

"Malfoy? Get to me?" She uttered a terribly fake laugh. "No, of course not. I'm just . . . tired, that's all," she finished lamely. She said nothing more, and Harry lapsed into silence, respecting his friends' desire not to speak.

Reaching the castle, they all headed inside and took their seats at the Gryffindor table. Many kids were already seated, but not yet even half of the school. Everyone was quiet, with the exception of the Slytherins, who all looked quite at ease. The decorations were the same as always. There were no black curtains as there had been last year after Cedric's death, but curtains of a different color were not necessary; the mood weighing upon them was more effective than any decoration could ever be.

The teachers were all seated at the High Table, with the exception of Snape, McGonagall, and Hagrid, all of whom were out fulfilling their usual duties. The teachers that were there—including, oddly enough, Professor Trelawny, who normally wouldn't dream of eating in such a big gathering because it was 'bad for her karma'—were all quiet and subdued, staring at their empty plates, or at the students filing in.

It was hushed at the student tables too, with the exception of dull, muffled greetings. Harry, Hermione, and Ron watched as their table slowly filled with their old friends. Harry couldn't help but miss the Weasley twins, though if they'd been there, even they wouldn't have done anything to disrupt the silence. Still, it felt odd to go back to a Hogwarts without them and their pranks. Ginny came in later and sat down next to Ron, Neville joinimg them as well.

Finally, everyone was at their tables, and McGonagall led the first years into the Great Hall. They were all talking quietly and nervously, unaffected by the mood around them because of nerves and ignorance. Most years, Hermione enjoyed the sorting, but she found herself tuning out most of it. The last name she heard before entirely losing interest and focus was, "Jenna Ackroyd" whom the Sorting Hat had placed in Ravenclaw before it even came close to touching her head.

Finally, when the last name was called, and a particularly loud bout of applause filled the Hall, Hermione snapped back to attention. All the new students were seated at their respective tables, watching and listening, finally feeling the effect of the mood of all the rest of the students. Professor McGonagall put the hat away, and took her place at the High Table.

Dumbledore stood, clearing his throat as he always did to get their attention. Tonight, there was no need for that, though, for everyone was paying close attention. Harry noticed that the happy glint that normally danced in his eyes was absent, leaving them a dull, empty sort of gray-blue. "Welcome, once more, to another year at Hogwarts," he said loudly, his voice echoing through the silence of the Hall. "I apologize to our first years. It is unfair to have to start your schooling in this normally happy place at such a sad time and in such a melancholy atmosphere. I am, in particular, apologetic to those who have only recently found out about their magical abilities and must come to a land torn by war. As most of you know by now, Voldemort has returned."

There was a moment of hushed whispering amongst some small first years who had heard of Voldemort, as well as those who hadn't and were asking for an explanation. Some of the older students winced at the Dark Lord's name, but said nothing.

"I do not wish to recount these tragic events for those here who have already dwelled upon it quite enough, but it is something I must do for those few of us that do not know.

"Voldemort returned to power in June, at the end of the last school year. He killed one of our own students, Cedric Diggory, and quite nearly killed another, Harry Potter. We have all been waiting with bated breath ever since, waiting for the inevitable day when his attack would come. That day came last week. A conference was held by the Ministry of Magic, and it was attacked. Thirty-two people died. Some children here have ties to those who were killed. Timothy Smith, of Hufflepuff, lost his second cousin. Rene Abbott, of Ravenclaw, lost her uncle. Ron and Ginny Weasley, of Gryffindor, lost their older brother, who just two years ago graduated from Hogwarts himself."

At the mention of her brother, Ginny's eyes filled with tears and a muffled sob escaped her lips. Ron hugged her to him and tried to help her calm down. She'd been taking it harder than he had—or at least, letting it show more. While Ron avoided the subject of Percy, Ginny started crying every time he was mentioned. Other Gryffindors averted their eyes, doing their best to give the grieving siblings their privacy. Harry and Hermione looked at each other, then back at Dumbledore, not wanting to make Ginny feel worse by helping console her. Hagrid shot them both a look of sympathy from his seat at the High Table

Dumbledore, who was obviously aware of Ginny's reaction, kept on task in an effort not to draw unwanted attention to her. "As you all know, this is a hard and frightening time. I must assure you all that you are safe here. Even during Voldemort's first reign, he never attacked us at Hogwarts."

"But isn't he more powerful now?" someone from Hufflepuff called. "What if he tries?" A lot of kids echoed their agreement quietly.

"He very well might," Dumbledore assured, causing many kids to start talking out of worry. "Silence," Dumbledore said, holding up a hand, which was enough to quiet them. "I will tell you the truth when asked a question—it is a firm belief of mine. Sometimes the truth is frightening, yes, but I feel it's better to be scared and prepared than carefree and ignorant. However, while the possibility remains, I do not believe he would try such a bold move, and if he does, it will surely not be for a while. He needs to regroup his allies. Also, the teachers and I have a plan. It is nothing concrete, but if it works, it will help to protect all of us. That is all I can say for now. Now, back to the general notices . . ."

Harry and Hermione tuned out as Dumbledore went over the usual list of rules. Ron was still trying to console Ginny.

"I wonder what Dumbledore's plan is?" Harry asked curiously, glancing the Headmaster out of the corner of his eye.

"I don't know," Hermione replied. "Whatever it is, I just hope it works."


	2. Destiny's Mysteries

**A/N:** God, I had no idea how bad this story really was until I started looking it over. This is pretty much as good as a complete re-write. Practically every paragraph has changed, chunks of plot have been altered or removed, and still there's work to be done. If this is your first time through this story, I beg of you, stop here and wait for me to redo the rest of the chapters before going on. If you don't understand why, click on chapter three. You'll see why. As it stands, though, here is the far superior version of chapter two.

2

Destiny's Mysteries

_"Show me what it's for _

_Make me understand it_

_I've been crawling in the dark_

_Looking for the answer."_

_--Hoobastank_

**T**hough it could certainly not be expected that life would return to normal quickly, by breakfast the next morning, the old routine had started to return. Schedules were passed out, classes were to commence, and friends began to converse again. The young first years finally had the chance to be awed at their new surroundings without feeling disrespectful. Midway down Gryffindor table, Harry, Ron, and Hermione were among those slipping back into comfortable normalcy.

"Jeez, we've got a lot of classes today!" Harry cried, scanning his schedule. "Defense Against the Dark Arts, Care of Magical Creatures, lunch, Divination, Double Potions—_again_ with the Slytherins— and Transfiguration. Normally they spread it out more."

"Defense Against the Dark Arts!" Hermione realized, turning her attention to the High Table. "I completely forgot! I wonder who our new teacher is? All the seats looked full last night, but there was no one new . . ."

"Professor Trelawny was there and she isn't normally. Maybe she took up the empty Defense Against the Dark Arts seat. See anyone new there now?" asked Harry, craning forward to see.

"No," Hermione said, shaking her head. "But there is an empty seat. You must be right. Trelawny isn't here now, and the seat is vacant."

"Doesn't matter," said Ron tonelessly. "We'll find out in about ten minutes anyway."

Hermione, who'd been about to reply, stopped and fell silent. She realized it would be a long time until Ron was back to the way he'd been before Percy's death. Much as they'd always fought, yelled, and disagreed, she missed the old Ron, and it hurt to see him this way. He was so distant. She would have dearly loved to engage him in one of their old screaming matches if it meant seeing him act normally.

She set down her fork, depressed by her musings. "Let's go. Class is starting soon, and I'm not hungry anyway."

Ron nodded, picking up his bag from where he'd tossed it on the floor. "Yeah, me either. You coming, Harry?"

Harry stuffed a last bite of eggs into his mouth and stood. "Okay. Let's go," he agreed, picking up his own bag.

They quickly navigated their usual route through the halls and entered the classroom, looking around curiously to see who their teacher would be. Much to their disappointment, they found that the only other people in the room were two other early students.

"Odd," Hermione mumbled. "You'd think a new teacher would be here promptly."

"Who cares?" snapped Ron. "If the teacher never shows up, I'll be perfectly happy."

Hermione pursed her lips disapprovingly at his last comment, but said nothing, knowing it wasn't the time. She took a seat at the front of the classroom, allowing Harry and Ron to trail behind her. Normally they would have sat in the middle or the back, but they wanted to see the new teacher up close.

The bell rang to signal the start of class, finding the students all in their seats, but still the teacher was absent. As five minutes passed, the noise level rose with shared inquiries as to what was going on. A teacher being this late was unheard of. It seemed like just about everyone except Hermione was quite content to sit there all class without an instructor, though, and indeed the teacher's absence seemed to be creating a jolly mood. Just as even Ron was beginning to calm down and start arguing with Dean about soccer, the door swung open and crashed against the wall with a thud loud enough to snap everyone to attention. Professor Snape stalked in.

Harry and Ron felt their mouths drop open. Every Gryffindor felt as though their worst nightmare were being lived out before their eyes as the Slytherins broke out in scattered applause. Neville let out a short, high-pitched squeak. Snape's head swiveled and his eyes settled on Neville, making the already nervous boy begin to shake.

"Longbottom—five points from Gryffindor for making unnecessary noise. You are not an animal; do not squeak!"

"But—but that puts us at negative five points!" Harry sputtered. "That's not fair—I'm not even sure that's allowed!"

Snape's eyes narrowed into slits as he turned his attention to Harry. "Now it's negative ten, Mr. Potter, for arguing. And I assure you, I'm well within the confines of my power."

"What are you doing here?" Ron cried in anger. "You're not supposed to teach this class—you're just the Potions teacher!"

"Do you wish to help your friend lose House points, Mr. Weasley? Yes, I am well aware of my position here. Unfortunately, your lazy, inconsiderate new Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher was rude enough to be late. She contacted Professor Dumbledore this morning to say she'd been held up a week. I am your temporary teacher. So get out your books and open them to page three hundred and twenty-seven. We'll be going over a review of last year, which, unfortunately, I'm sure you'll all need."

Hermione raised a hand into the air. Snape looked up at her, loathing written all over his face. "What?" he snapped.

"I just thought I'd say that I don't think we need a review of last year. Everyone passed their final exams, most with above average scores, so I'm not sure it's necessary to—"

"Did I ask for you to give your opinion, Miss Granger?" Hermione shook her head and lowered her eyes. "I didn't think so. So keep your mouth shut, and do as I say. Open your book, now!"

"This is so unfair," Harry hissed at Hermione out of the corner of his mouth so that Snape wouldn't see. "We've already got him for two hours this afternoon. I'm not sure if I can handle three hours of Snape in one day."

"You know," Ron commented to Harry, "I've never even met the new teacher, but I have to agree with one thing Snape said—she's pretty inconsiderate. How could she do this to us? I'm beginning to think that someone up there doesn't like me very much."

"TEN POINTS FROM GRYFFINDOR!" Snape yelled, spinning to face them. "No talking! If I have to remind you three again it will be fifty—each. Now _pay_ _attention_!"

For the rest of class, the room was silent as a crypt, no one wanting to put them below an all-time low of negative twenty points. Still, Snape managed to take another five away from poor Neville for not knowing the answer to a question directed at him. Finally, the class was over, and they all hurried from the room, praying he wouldn't call anyone back in to stay.

Their next class was a blessing after the torture of their first as the Gryffindors all wandered out onto the grounds for Care of Magical Creatures. Being out in the fresh, sunny, early-morning air helped the general mood, and talking to Hagrid aided Harry, Ron, and Hermione in particular. It was good to see their old friend again. It was also a nice change to just be _reading_ about the creature they would be studying, instead of having to come into physical contact with it. Hagrid had a way of lifting their spirits, and even when he touched upon the taboo subject of Percy, he managed to make Ron feel a bit better.

"Too bad 'bout Percy, Ron," Hagrid said, sniffling slightly. "I'm really sorry. He was a good boy. Sure, he was a little bit o' a know-it-all, an' could get a bit frustratin' at times, but he was a good person. I hope him the best, wherever he is now."

Ron nodded. "Thanks, Hagrid. It's a nice change to hear it from someone I know means it. It can get rather irritating, people who don't know you or don't like you giving you their condolences."

Since lunch followed the class, they decided to stay for a while and chat with Hagrid. He, however, appeared quite busy. He was watching the students as they left and making notes on a sheet of parchment. Harry, Ron, and Hermione watched curiously until he finally looked up at them. He cleared his throat uncomfortably, making very certain that he didn't meet their eyes. "Um, why don' yeh all head back up ter the castle, eh? I'm pretty busy, an' I don' have time fer talk righ' now. Sorry 'bout it, but maybe later."

"What were you doing, Hagrid?" Hermione asked curiously.

"That's—er—that's classified information, that is, Hermione. 'Fraid I can' tell yeh. So git goin', okay? Real busy . . ."

The three nodded and said their goodbyes, but as they headed back up to the castle, they were discussing it with quiet interest.

"I wonder what he was doing?" Harry wondered, with a glance back over his shoulder at the hut. "He seemed really determined to keep it secret."

"You know," Hermione said slowly, "I think I saw Snape doing the same thing. Could be something totally different, but . . . I don't know. I just have a feeling it's not."

They talked about it through lunch, but came up with nothing, and soon after they had to part ways, Hermione off to her Arithmancy class as Harry and Ron ventured into Divination. The tower room was as stifling as ever, and Professor Trelawny was just as annoying. If anything, Harry's near-death experience in the Triwizard Tournament the year before had just encouraged her.

She started class off by swooping over to Ron. "Oh, dear, I sense you are deeply troubled," she said in a sad voice. "You have had a recent loss in your life."

"That's profound," Harry snapped irritably, refusing to put up with her ignorant comments at his friend's expense. "I guess you define 'looking into people' as 'reading the paper.' Everyone knows his brother was killed in the Ministry attack! You were there last night when Dumbledore announced it. Don't needle him about it."

Instead of growing angry, she turned to Harry. "You, too, seem troubled, dear. You are frightened, discomforted. It is a pity you do not contain anything like an inner eye. It really is pointless for you to be here—you have that in common with your friend Hermione Granger. Speaking of the girl, do tell her she's in for quite a stressful year."

Harry looked at Ron, and both of them rolled their eyes. "Sure thing. I'll be sure to tell her you said so, and that she can look forward to a dull and boring year. I'm sure it will be a relief." Many people giggled while Lavender Brown and Parvati Patil shot them looks of disgust. Professor Trelawnly let out a heavy sigh.

"What can I do when no one will listen to the future?" she said in a distressed voice, and swooping off to irritate Dean Thomas and Neville.

"Get a new job?" Ron suggested under his breath, causing Harry to choke back laughter.

For the rest of class, she had them looking into crystal balls again, claiming no one had made any true progress when they'd studied it before. When she finally let them out, Harry and Ron were sure to be slow and watch Trelawny. Sure enough, just like the other teachers, she was watching them and writing.

"Okay, now I'm sure something's up," Harry whispered to Ron, who nodded gravely. "Think it has something to do with that mysterious plan of Dumbledore's?"

"Could be," Ron said, and they both started to walk out, slowly. "Don't see how, though."

"Oh, and Mr. Weasley?"

Ron stopped and turned around to face Professor Trelawny with a sour expression. "Yes, ma'am?" he asked in a polite voice that it was hard to use with her.

"Just thought I'd let you know that you'll be forgetting your homework on Friday, so please, try to work hard on other assignments. I don't want you falling behind."

Ron rolled his eyes. "I won't forget my homework. I can't forget to bring something I didn't even do," Ron countered, watching as she frowned in confusion. Ron and Harry climbed down the stairs to the hallway, laughing at her expression.

"Boy, she's full of it," Ron commented. "What an old loony."

"Got that right. You know, I have to wonder, does she actually think she's fooling—"

"Harry! Ron!"

The boys turned, seeing Hermione hurrying through the hall to catch up with them. She had that familiar glint of determined curiousity in her eyes, Harry noted as she finally paralleled their pace.

Sure enough, her first words had to do with their current mini-mystery. "So," she said proudly, "things are certainly getting strange around here. I was watching Professor Vector all through Arithmancy, trying to see if she was acting oddly. I kept an eye on her during our worktime, and she was looking around at us all, making notes on a sheet of parchment. At the end of class, I pretended to have a question about our worksheet so that I got to be right up by her desk. I saw the parchment she'd been working on, and it was the roll call list. There were all these notes next to our names, but she'd written them in fast, sloppy cursive, and they were too far away for me to read them."

"Nice job," Harry complimented her. "We noticed Trelawny doing the same thing after our class, but we didn't see what she was writing on. Probably the same."

Hermione held up a hand. "That's not all. I was heading up here to meet up with you before Potions, and I saw Snape, McGonagall, and Dumbledore in the hall near the Charms classroom, all discussing something rather heatedly. I hid around the corner, and listened in as best I could. Dumbledore was talking about 'testing' the students, and Snape and McGonagall kept saying he was going about it the wrong way. They seemed to think he's wasting time, but he just kept saying that he knew what he was doing, and that they would try his method for a week to see what came of it. It was all very vague, but very suspicious."

"Did you hear anything else?" asked Harry, frowning thoughtfully.

Hermione went a bit red and looked to the side. "No. Dumbledore sort of ran into me upon turning the corner, and … well, you know how he is. He sees everything. He knew I was listening, I imagine, so I kind of ran off as soon as I could."

"Way to snoop, Hermione," sniggered Ron, shaking his head at her.

"Well, I found about a lot more than you two detectives," Hermione shot back.

"_Decretive?"_ inquired Ron, mispronouncing the unfamiliar Muggle term as both of his friends ignored him and continued the conversation.

"I wonder what this is that they're looking to test," Harry murmured, deep in thought.

"I don't know. It sounds like they're looking for specific students," Hermione commented. "Maybe the teachers are making notes about what ones they consider most appropriate?"

"They said they're doing it for a week," Harry said. "So this is day one. It should continue until Friday."

"This is great and all, guys," said Ron slowly, "but I'm not really in the mood for a mystery that could lead us into doom and danger, as per our usual. You two can go ahead and solve this on your own. I'm out. And if we don't want detention to top off this wonderful day, we'd better get to Potions; Snape's probably in awful temper and we're already a minute late."

"Oh!" Hermoine cried, looking down at her watch. "Oh no—and we're on the top floor!"

They ran as quickly as they could, making use of every shortcut Fred and George and the Marauder's Map had ever shown them, but by that point, nothing could keep them from being ten minutes late to class. When they ran in, Snape was lecturing on how to make a Soothing Drought. He looked up, a cold smile playing across his lips.

"Mr. Potter, Miss Granger, Mr. Weasley. You are quite late. I don't suppose you have a note?" he asked in a sickly-sweet tone.

Ron grimaced and shook his head. "No, sir," he said quietly.

"Just because you have recently lost a family member does not give you the right to be late to my class, Mr. Weasley," Snape said coldly. "Nor does your alleged fame, Mr. Potter, or your overlarge brain, Miss Granger." While the Slytherins' laughter echoed through the dungeon, Snape pretended to ponder. "Hmm. Ten minutes late, and there are three of you. Let's make it ten points apiece for a grand total of thirty. Now take your seats before it's twice that."

His eyes followed them to a group of seats in the back. "No," he called when they had all sat down together. "It seems as though you are being deliberatly rude and disruptive today, and I will not allow it to continue. I'm afraid I'll have to separate you. Mr. Weasley, over there by Mr. Freedman."

Ron picked up his bag and looked to where Snape was pointing. A particularly large and surly-looking Slytherin boy glared back at him, and Ron gulped and headed over, head hanging. "Oh, yeah," Harry and Hermione heard him whisper as he passed, "I've got a true enemy somewhere up there."

Snape was far from finished. "Mr. Potter, I would send you by Mr. Malfoy, but I don't want a fight to break out, so Miss Granger, that shall be your seat."

Remembering the incident on the train the night before, Hermione felt the swellings of rage inside her. She was more likely to fight Malfoy than Harry right now. Hoping to avoid an incident that would only lead to problems, she tried to negotiate with Snape. "Sir, if there is any way to persuade you to reconsider—"

"No, Miss Granger, you will sit where I say. I gave you an order, and I would like you to follow it. Is your head so full of information that it cannot process a simple thing like a command?"

Hermione's cheeks flushed red and she mumbled, "No, sir," walking over to sit by Malfoy.

"Mr. Potter, go and sit by Miss Parkinson," said Snape. "Go quickly, boy, you've disrupted enough of my class!"

Finally, when the three were all sitting dejectedly in their newly assigned seats, Snape turned back to his Soothing Drought. He spent a portion of the class time instructing them on the procedure, and finally announced: "You will be working in pairs with your table partner. You have the rest of the class to create the Drought, and if you fail to finish, you will receive a zero. You can blame Weasley, Potter, and Granger for your loss of time. Go."

Hermione and Malfoy turned to look at each other. She couldn't believe she had to be partnered with _him_! He would likely try to sabotage her grade by destroying the potion on purpose. Or, assuming he was as serious as he'd seemed the night before in regard to his intent to harm her, he'd try to turn it into something dangerous.

"Malfoy, I don't trust you," she said bluntly, stating her thoughts. "Though I hate having to do all the work and allowing you to get credit, I will make the potion. You just sit there."

"Bit more scared of me than you were last night, huh?" Malfoy said, grinning.

"It's called cautious, not frightened," she snapped, pulling out her ingredients.

He ignored her, leaning back with a cocky look. "Yeah, I figured that would help make you believe me. How do you feel this morning? A little sore?"

"Not really," Hermione lied. In actuality, she hurt a lot if she moved too much, and while no bruises showed, there were many hidden by her clothing. She'd slammed into the wall much harder than she'd let on to anybody. "And again: I do not fear you Malfoy; I don't trust you. There's a difference." With that, she silently commenced slicing her spider legs.

Malfoy watched her, his eyes narrowing, a flame of anger burning inside him again. She _still_ wasn't afraid of him. He couldn't believe it. "You know," he said slowly and quietly, "if Potter and Weasley hadn't been there to save you, you'd believe me a lot more. I wasn't even close to done with you. That Throwing Curse was just meant to disorient you."

Hermione's neat, calm, timed chopping faltered for the barest fraction of a second, but Malfoy caught it. He continued on with even more malice, knowing he was getting to her.

He leaned forward, whispering so that no one else could overhear. "I was halfway through the Cruciatus Curse when Potter disarmed me. If he'd been only a second later . . ." He laughed.

Hermione dropped the knife and looked up at him. "You're really sick, you know that?" she hissed. "You actually _like_ hurting people! Why even bother being at Hogwarts? You're not going to graduate or amount to anything; you'll just become a servant of You-Know-Who. I'll bet if I pulled up your sleeve right now, the Dark Mark would be burned into your flesh!"

Malfoy ignored all her insults. He zeroed in on the smallest of details. "Still can't call him by his name, can you? Bit pathetic, really. You're pretty sad, Granger. Now go ahead—make my potion. Get me an A. I'm perfectly happy letting you do it."

Hermione let out a frustrated growl and turned back to the spider legs. Throughout the rest of the lesson, Malfoy punctuated her work with insulting remarks, all of which she silently ignored. When Snape got around to testing her potion, he used her as the recipient, as she had known he would. She drank the bitter potion and felt herself becoming relaxed. It was a pleasant feeling, and soon everything that had been troubling her—Malfoy's threats, Ron's misery, the teacher's curious behavior—faded away.

"I knew I got it right, Professor. Granger kept trying to put in the wrong ingredients," Malfoy accused. His expression and tone were innocent and understanding. "It's okay, though. Anyone can make a mistake, even the smartest girl in school."

"Twenty points to you, Mr. Malfoy, for a well-concocted potion," Snape said. "And ten to Miss Granger for her complete lack of knowledge when it comes to the Soothing Drought."

Had Hermione not just ingested the potion, she'd have been outraged, but instead, all she felt was an unnerving calm. By the time Snape dismissed them all, though, she was beginning to feel normal again.

"He's so biased toward Slytherins!" she raged to Harry and Ron as they walked out of the classroom. None of them bothered observing Snape—they knew he was taking down notes, too, and they didn't care to give him any other reason to take points away. "And Malfoy, taking all the credit, knowing I couldn't argue!"

"Even if you could have, Snape would have done the same thing. He probably would have taken away even more for you having contradicted Malfoy's lies," Harry said in disgust.

Ron growled, causing his friends to look at him in surprise. "Look, what does it matter? Ten points lost won't kill you, Hermione; maybe it'll make you more like a real student. I got a zero, for crying out loud, and it still doesn't matter. None of this does. I just want this day and all these pointless subjects to be done with."

Hermione, who had at first bristled at his tone and his words, melted into compassion at realizing that he was simply hurting. "It's all right, Ron. The day's almost over and Professor McGonagall will be a lot nicer than Snape."

Ron shrugged and headed off down the hall. Hermione and Harry followed.

Ron didn't cheer up much throughout the remainder of the day, and when their last class let out, he immediately ditched Harry and Hermione to head to the dorms, claiming he had a headache and needed to lie down. He promised them he would see them at supper, but he never showed.

Worried for his friend, Harry wrapped up a tuna sandwich in a napkin as dinner wound down, and he and Hermione headed back up to the Gryffindor common room to check on him.

"I'll go give him this," said Harry to Hermione as they stopped at the foot of the staircase leading up to the dorms. "If you want to, I can borrow Seamus's Gobstones set." Hermione nodded and assured him she'd wait downstairs.

Harry bounded up the stairs and entered his dorm. All the bed curtains were pulled back with the exception of Ron's. The only other person in the dorm was Neville, who was sprawled on his bed reading a book, and smiled at Harry when he came in. Walking over to Ron's bed, Harry pulled back one of the curtain to find his friend laying immobile on his back, staring at the ceiling.

"Ron?" Harry asked. "You missed dinner. I brought you up a sandwich." There was no reply. "Ron?"

"I'm not hungry," Ron said in a distant voice. "You can have the sandwich, just leave me alone."

"Ron, I know you're upset, but you have to eat," Harry protested gently.

"I'm not hungry," he repeated, turning away so that his back faced Harry. "I really just want to sleep right now, okay? I'll eat in the morning."

At a loss for what to say, Harry placed the sandwich on Ron's bedside table in the hopes that his friend would rediscover his appetite later. He gave Ron one last long glance and turned away, quietly closing his curtains once more.

For the rest of the week, the teachers continued to behave in the same mysterious manner. Hermione tried on several occasions to get closer to a professor's desk and catch a peek of their notes, but she never had much luck. The closest she got to seeing anything of use was when she stayed after in Transfiguration, claiming she needed to speak to McGonagall. She managed to see the roll call list, and made out the single word "not," before McGonagall shifted her papers around so that the sheet was buried. When she tried it on Snape, he screamed at her for being a "nosy little spying runt" and took away ten points from Gryffindor, making Hermione decide she might as well quit.

Harry left the spying to Hermione, since his first attempt had landed him in trouble. The two of them tried to keep off the subject when around Ron, as he'd asked not to be a part of it. They didn't want to make him feel like it was all they cared about, and they didn't pressure him into helping them. He remained quiet and withdrawn, eating little (and usually only when forced), sleeping too much, and becoming almost aggressively apathetic toward most everything. Harry and Hermione's concern for him grew daily, but every time they tried to talk to him, he would lash out and nothing would get resolved.

Finally, at dinner on Friday, something happened to interest even Ron. The evening have been going normally enough, at least by their recent standards: Hermione heaping food onto Ron's plate while arguing with Harry about something that had taken place in Defense Against the Dark Arts. The general atmosphere was low, but not black, and there was an average amount of noise about. The teachers all appeared to be dining as usual. About midway through the meal, though, Dumbledore stood and called for everyone's attention, effectively breaking them out of what was usual.

"Good evening, everyone," he said. "I do hope you're enjoying your dinner. If you haven't, try the pumpking juice tonight—I do believe the house elves added a touch of cinnamon spice, and it's quite pleasant.

"If you'll grant me your attention for just a moment, I would simply like to make a brief announcement. I would like the following students to meet me in dungeon two as soon as dinner is over. Of Gryffindor: Katie Bell, Colin Creevy, Seamus Finnigan, Hermione Granger, Harry Potter, Dean Thomas, Ginny Weasley, and Ron Weasley. Of Ravenclaw: Stewart Ackerly, Terry Boot, Cho Chang, Misty Fletcher, Jonathan Nelson, and Orla Quirke. Of Hufflepuff: Susan Bones, Eleanor Branstone, Ownen Cauldwell, Justin Finch-Fletchley, Paul Peters, Alicia Tillman, and Carla Yates. Of Slytherin: Malcolm Baddock, Millicent Bulstrode, Cayden Jasser, Draco Malfoy, Graham Pritchard, and Blaise Zabini.

"Those students—_and those students only_—are to meet in dungeon two following dinner. Please, if your name was not called, do not attend. Thank you all for your time, and again, I must insist that you try the pumpkin juice. It really is worth a taste." He smiled at them all and took his seat once more.

The Gryffindors looked around at each other in confusion. "Why us?" Ron whispered to Harry and Hermione.

"I don't know—but I'll bet it has something to do with the teachers' plan," Hermione said. "It's been a week, and that was Dumbledore's intended duration. Looks like we'll find out after all; I was beginning to think we were wasting our time."

Noise was breaking out all over. Everyone wanted to know why certain students had been called, and what the whole thing was about, but no one had any answers—or really, even any decent speculations. Hermione, Harry, and Ron were forced to keep silent, not wanting to let all of Gryffindor know what they did. They finished their dinner quickly, and Hermione was the first to stand, causing Harry and Ron to look up at her.

She sighed and looked back at them. "Let's go."


	3. Destiny's Command

_::: 3 :::_ _Destiny's Command_

_"When destiny calls you,_

_You must be strong._

_I may not be with you,_

_But you've got to hold on."_

_--Phil Collins_

Dungeon two was one of the most unused dungeons in the castle.  It was full of dust and cobwebs, and small bugs crawled around on the damp stone floor.  It was normally vacant of any furniture or people, but as Harry, Hermione, and Ron descended the stairs into a gloom that was lit only by candles that didn't even begin to penetrate the darkness of the corners, there was the stool with the Sorting Hat on it.  A few other kids were already there, standing around and staring at the hat, whispering amongst themselves quietly.  Dumbledore and Professor McGonagall were standing by the hat, watching kids come in and making check marks next to their names on a piece of parchment as they entered.

    It seemed that most kids hadn't eaten their full and had decided to skip dinner to get here early, just as Harry, Hermione, and Ron had.  Within five minutes, everyone was present.  They all stuck mainly with their own house, and the Slytherins stayed far away from the Gryffindors.

    "Thank you all for coming," Professor McGongall said, her voice echoing throughout the silent dungeon.  "I am truly sorry, but I cannot tell you all right now what this is about.  You will just come forward and put on the hat.  If it chooses you—and four of you will, hopefully, be selected—then you four will get an explanation.  Everyone else will leave not knowing why.  This needs to be kept quiet, so when you leave here, please do not speak of what went on.  We will begin with the Ravenclaws.  Stewart Ackerly, please step forward and try on the hat, as you did at the Sorting."

    A small and scrawny second year boy stepped up and put the hat on.  A moment later, he pulled it off and set it back down on the stool, shaking his head.  "It just yelled, 'You aren't the one,' in my ear," Stewart complained, and went back to join his fellow Ravenclaws.  Professor McGonagall crossed his name off the list and called up Terry Boot.  

     All the rest of the Ravenclaws had the same result, and none, in the end, were "chosen" by the hat.  Professor McGonagall looked deeply disappointed at this fact, but went on to call up the Hufflepuffs.

    This time, though, Justin Finch-Fletchly was chosen.  He sat down on the stool and put the hat on, not looking too expectant as he was the second to last name on the list.  Professor McGonagall looked pretty bleak as well.  However, a minute later, Justin pulled the hat off, looking rather confused, yet pleased.  "It . . . it said I was the one for Hufflepuff," Justin said, a slow smile playing on his lips.

    Professor McGonagall looked relieved, as did Dumbledore.  "Wonderful.  Please, go over and stand by the headmaster while we go through the last two houses.  Thank you."

    Justin sat the hat down, and grinned at his fellow Hufflepuffs, who were all smiling and shooting him congratulatory signs.  

    Gryffindors were next.  The first three had no results.  Hermione braced herself to be called up next, but instead Professor McGonagall skipped her name and went on to call Harry's.  Harry stood and walked over to the hat, but looked back at Hermione in confusion.  Hermione put her hand into the air.

    "Professor," she called, not waiting for McGonagall to actually take notice of her hand.  "You skipped me."

    McGonagall looked down at her sheet and frowned.  "Oh, I'm sorry, Miss Granger.  I forgot to write your name down.  You may go last."  Hermione nodded and watched Harry.

    She could hear everyone whispering, expecting it to be Harry.  "Potter's sure to be chosen for Gryffindor," Malfoy was saying in disgust across the room.  "He always gets picked for stuff like this.  More fame for the celebrity."

    Harry sat down on the stool and put the hat on, ignoring the whispering going on all around him.  

    "_Well, well, well, it has been a while since I've seen you_," the hat hissed in his ear.

    "_Um, yes_," Harry agreed uncertainly.  "_It has been a time_."

    "_Looking to know if you're the chosen one, are you_?" the hat murmured tauntingly.

    "_Yes_," Harry thought back at it.  

    "_You don't want to be, do you, though?  Tired of all the glory, tired of always being chosen, right_?" the hat said, explaining his feelings perfectly.

    "_No_," Harry confirmed.  "_I don't want to be chosen_."

    "_You are not the right one anyway, so that should please you.  You've got too many qualities that Salazar Slytherin would have favored, and I am searching for the perfect Gryffindor.  If there was ever any doubt in a person's House placement, that person cannot be chosen, and as we both know, there was plenty of doubt in your case.  You are not he_."

    "_Okay_," Harry thought feeling very relieved and for once happy that Voldemort had given him some of his qualities.  "_Thanks_."  He pulled the hat off, stood, and put it back on the stool.  "Not me," he said to Professor McGonagall.  

    Across the room, Draco Malfoy's jaw dropped.  He covered it up quickly with a smirk and said loudly to the other Slytherins, "See?  I've been saying it for years—Potter's just some overrated kid who accidently defeated the Dark Lord.  Sure, everyone bows down to him, but he's not worth it.  The Sorting Hat doesn't lie, though."

    Harry walked back over and joined the other Gryffindors, ignoring Malfoy.  Dean Thomas and Ginny had no luck either, and were soon standing back with the Gryffindors.  Professor McGonagall was beginning to look hopeless again.  Ron walked up to the hat and shoved it over his head.

    "_Don't pick me_," Ron thought unhappily at the hat the second it was on his head. 

    "_Oh, so you _don't_ want all the glory any more, hmm_?" the hat taunted.  "_I thought last year it was your dream.  You wanted so badly to be like your friend Harry.  Now you have a chance and you _don't_ want it_?"

    "_My brother just died_," he snapped.  "_I don't care anymore.  Don't pick me_."

    "_I won't.  You aren't the one I'm looking for_."

    "_Good_."  Ron took off the hat and walked over to the Gryffindor group, shaking his head.

    "Miss Granger?" Professor McGonagall called in a depressed tone.  "Go on."  She said these last to words as almost a prayer.

    Hermione walked over to the hat.  She had no idea what would happen, or why this was happening, but she wanted to know badly.  She anxiously pulled the hat onto her head and heard the hat in her mind.

    "_Ah, Miss Granger.  Hello again_."

    "_Hi_," she thought, feeling strangely self-conscious talking to a hat that could read her mind.  "_What's this all about_?"

    "_That I can't tell you, but I can tell you that you are the one_."  Hermione's heart leaped as she listened.  "_You are the perfect Gryffindor, the one with the qualities Godric Gryffindor himself would have been proud of.  You have the brave heart of a lion, though it does not always show, and the knowledge and intelligence of the great founder himself.  You have integrity, and would never lie unless it was for a good cause."_

    "_Being chosen is a good thing, right_?" Hermione asked nervously.

    "_And once more you demonstrate your intelligence—no one else has thought to ask that.  For that, I will give you the best answer I am capable of giving you. It could be and good thing, or it could not be.  That is entirely up to you.  Either way, you have a hard road ahead of you.  Good luck_."

    Hermione mentally thanked the hat, then pulled it off her head and stood on shaky legs.  "It picked me," Hermione said in a quiet voice that nonetheless managed to sound thunderously loud to her ears in the dungeon.  "It said I'm the perfect Gryffindor and I'm the chosen one."

    "It said the same things to me," Justin called to her.  "Only it was talking about Hufflepuff."  Hermione, a lump in her throat too big to speak around, just nodded at him.

    "Good, good," Professor McGonagall said, looking like her faith had been restored.  "Go join Mr. Finch-Fletchley and Professor Dumbledore and allow me to finish up."

    Hermione walked over to Justin and Dumbledore, looking over and Harry, Ron, and Ginny, all of whom were grinning at her.  She tried to smile back, but found it hard to do.  For the past week she'd been dying to know what the teachers were up to.  Now that she was to find out, it suddenly seemed quite unnerving.  She always listened to her instincts, and her instincts told her that this was not going to end up turning out well.

    The Slytherins were all instantly told they were not it by the hat—though for a moment they all thought that Cayden Jasser was going to be chosen, until he threw the hat down and stomped on it in frustration, making Professor McGonagall scream at him—until Draco Malfoy stepped up.  He put the hat onto his head, and waited for the hat to tell him he had been Chosen.  He knew he was the best of all the losers that had been chosen to come down here, so he wasn't uncertain at all.  He was a Malfoy, after all.

    "_Mr. Malfoy_," the hat cooed.  "_Draco Malfoy, so like Salazar Slytherin.  You're sly, cunning, willing to gut anyone you need to to reach your goals.  Hater of Muggle-borns.  Smart, but your intelligence goes to diabolical plans, rather than schoolwork.  Yes, you are the chosen one.  You're even as arrogant as Salazar was, knowing before you put me on you would be picked.  I don't think you'll like being chosen, though_."  The hat laughed in his ear, and Draco sat it back down, looking at it in annoyance and slight apprehension.  

    He filled his chest out, forcing away his doubts, and announced proudly, "It chose me."  He looked over at Hermione who looked horrified, and smirked at her.  He already wasn't too happy that he'd have to be anywhere near the Mudblood and Hufflepuff wimp, but figured he could handle it.

    "Okay.  Go join the others," Professor McGonagall said.  She turned to Dumbledore.  "Albus, I'll perform the spell on the others, and then I'll have to head over to Ravenclaw house and test them all, I'm afraid.  You can't explain it to them without having the fourth.  The entire point is to be united."

    Dumbledore didn't look happy, but nodded.  "Much as I dislike the plan, Minerva, I must agree.  I will lead these three to my office, and they can wait until you've found the fourth."

    "Fourth?" Malfoy intruded, not caring if he sounded rude by interrupting.  "There are supposed to be four of us?"

    "Later, Mr. Malfoy," Professor McGonagall snapped.  "You will be informed when the fourth has arrived.  Now, go with Professor Dumbledore."

    Malfoy grimaced and put his hands into his pockets sulkily.  Dumbledore led the three kids back towards the stairway up to the normal school halls.  When they were about halfway up, Hermione heard McGonagall telling the dungeon, "This is a simple spell that it is necessary I perform.  It will not harm you, do not worry."

    Hermione stopped and turned back to look down the stairs.  Malfoy stopped too and sneered at her. "What's wrong, Granger?  Worried about Potty and Weasel?"

    "Shut it, Malfoy, I'm trying to listen," Hermione snapped, and both quieted just in time to hear Professor McGonagall yell, "_Obliviate_ _Generosiva_!"  A moment later, the room filled with red light.

    Hermione gasped.  "She just modified all of their memories!" she whispered.

    "Why?" Malfoy wondered aloud, for once not opening his mouth to insult her.  "What's the point of that?  Why is this all some big secret?"

    "You'll all find out soon," said a voice from behind them.  The two spun to see Professor Dumbledore and Justin standing there, watching them.  "Indeed, she modified their memories.  Now they will all believe they were called down here to discuss grades.  We must hurry before they come back up and see us in the stairwell.  It will all be explained—"

    "We know, we know, once the fourth arrives," Malfoy said, frowning in annoyance, not bothering to keep the scorn out of his voice even though he was talking to the headmaster.

    Dumbledore led them through the near-deserted corridors of the school and up to his office.  There were four chairs seated in front of his desk instead of the usual one, and he directed them all to take seats.  "I will be joining Minerva in Ravenclaw house temporarily, and hopefully we will soon be able to explain to you all what has gone on tonight.  You, more than anyone else have the right to know, for this is going to change your lives drastically."

    Hermione swallowed and fidgeted in her seat uncomfortably under the headmaster's serious gaze.  There had only been a few times in the past when she'd seen Dumbledore without an amused twinkle in his clear blue eyes, and every one of those times it was because something horribly serious or dangerous was going on.  There was no twinkle in his eyes as he spoke.  He turned and left and as the door swung shut behind him, Hermione let out a breath she hadn't realized she'd been holding.  

    Malfoy looked over at her.  "Scared much, Mudblood?" he taunted, but she could tell even he was slightly unsettled.  She didn't even bother gracing his comment with a reply.

    Justin, however, did.  "That's not very nice . . . Draco, was it?" he said.

    " _'That's not very nice_!'" Malfoy mimicked cruelly.  "What a bunch of idiots I'm stuck with.  I'd almost rather be stuck with Granger than you.  At least I can make fun of her without her retorting stupidly, and she has _some_ intelligence, though no where near my level.  And you may call me Malfoy.  Everyone does."

    "Thank you for the compliment," Hermione said, smiling at him.  She was, in no way, thankful for his comment, but she knew that if she let him know he'd complimented her in a roundabout way, it would get to him terribly.

    Malfoy looked at her indignantly.  "Compliment you?  What fantasy are you living in?"

    "So you've got amnesia, have you?  If I'm not mistaken, you just said that I was smart, and when you insult me, I retort intelligently.  Come off it, _Draco_, you remember."  

    "You're mistaken," he informed her gravely, and turned to face the desk, not looking at either of them.  "Bunch of Mudbloods . . ." he muttered to himself.

    Hermione smiled to herself, knowing how deeply she'd gotten to him.  She looked at Justin, who was trying hard not to laugh.

    "So, I wonder what this "being chosen" thing is," Justin said to Hermione.  "I mean, obviously they're looking for kids with the perfect qualities for their houses, and they chose us.  But why?"

    "I don't know, but the teachers have been taking notes on kids all week.  I never knew why, but now I think they were trying to watch us and figure which of us were the right kids to be chosen.  Obviously they don't want everyone to know about this, so they didn't just want to gather the whole school and do it one by one.  Then have to modify everyone's memories."

    "Yeah, that makes sense.  Guess they didn't pick any of the right kids for Ravenclaw, though, huh?" 

    "Suppose not," Hermione said, and they both lapsed into silence again.  

    Draco sat sandwiched between the two, sulking.  He was annoyed at having to even be in the same room as the two of them.  He was a Malfoy—he shouldn't be associating with people like them, even if it wasn't voluntary.  He stood and decided to explore Dumbledore's office.  He moved over to the headmaster's shelves of books and trinkets and let his eyes roam, his hands gently brushing the bindings of the books.

    "What are you doing?" Hermione asked disdainfully.  "You shouldn't be touching Dumbledore's things."

    "What are you going to do about it?" he sneered.  "I'm bored.  I'm doing something with my time.  Lay off, Granger.  Who cares if I touch the old fool's books?"

    "Dumbledore's a genius, and great man," Hermione defended.

    "To people like you," Draco shot back, pausing to look back at her.

    "And who would be a genius to people like you?" Hermione snapped.  "Voldemort?"  She made certain to say his name, just to prove to Malfoy that she could.  Justin winced, but she took no notice.

    Draco shot her an evil smile.  "That's my business, not yours," he said, and commenced exploring Dumbledore's shelves.  Hermione ignored him, knowing she couldn't make him stop.  She watched as he walked up to Fawkes the phoenix, who was dozing peacefully on his open perch.  "Hey, dumb bird," he said.

    "Didn't learn your lesson in third year, did you?" Hermione called to him in disgust.  "Insulting magical creatures isn't a good idea.  They're not dogs and cats.  Many of them hear and understand you."

    "This lazy bird?  Yeah, he can hear me!  He's not even awake!" Draco said, laughing.  He moved his finger up to stroke the bird's beak.  Just as his finger came into contact with it, the bird's mouth opened and snapped, catching Draco's finger and biting it.

    Draco jerked his hand away, crying out and holding his bleeding finger.  "Cursed bird!" he snapped, shaking his finger in pain.  He turned to Hermione.  "You've got to know a healing spell for a small wound like this," he said, almost begging but keeping the right amount of diginity in his voice to off-set it.

    Hermione smiled serenely.  "Yes, I do.  But, like you said, it's just a small wound.  Surely a tough _Malfoy_ can take a bird bite?"

    Draco narrowed his eyes at her.  "Just heal my finger, would you?"

    "No," Hermione replied calmly.  "It's your own fault.  I even warned you and you didn't listen.  And if you're too much of a baby to take it, then so be it."

    "Fine," Draco snarled, walking back over to sit down, still holding his slightly bleeding finger tightly.  "Don't tell me."

    "I won't."

    "I know!"

    "Then shut up!" growled Hermione.

    "I don't take orders from Mudbloods!" retorted Draco haughtily.

    "I know, you take your orders from Lord Voldemort, you Death Eater," said Hermione acidly.

    Justin groaned.  "Will the two of you both be quiet?  You're giving me a headache."

    "I'm sure we can find a cure for that, Mr. Fletchley."

    The three spun around to see Dumbledore, McGonagall, and a small first year girl coming into the room.  "It went rather faster than expected," McGonagall said briskly, stepping aside so that the small girl who had been hiding behind her was seen.  She was tall, but gangly, and had deep black hair swept up into a ponytail behind her.  Her eyes were murky blue, but they were turned toward the floor and she seemed determined not to look at anybody.  "This is Jenna Ackroyd, the one chosen for Ravenclaw.  Our mistake was paying no attention to the first years during our first selection.  We assumed the prophecy would be telling of older, more practiced wizards—"

    "Let's not get ahead of ourselves, Minerva," Dumbledore said quickly.  "They don't yet know what we speak of, so let's not confuse them."  He turned to Jenna and smiled.  "Please take your seat and we'll begin."

    Jenna nodded quickly and walked over to sit down.  Just as she got there, Malfoy stood up.  "I have no intention of being sandwiched between two . . . uh, Muggle-borns," he said, careful not to use the term "Mudbloods" in front of the teachers.  "You take that seat.  I'll be on the end."

    Jenna moved to the side so he could swoop past her and sit down where she had been about to.  She looked deeply confused and scared, and Hermione invited her encouragingly to sit down beside her and Justin.  She smiled a little and took her seat, still not looking directly at anybody.

    Hermione watched the teachers as they exchanged concerned and knowing looks.  Dumbledore sat down behind his desk and Professor McGonagall stood to the side of him.

    "I'm sure you're all very confused right now and for that I can't blame you.  I'm not entirely sure where to begin myself.  I will start with the prophecy, because you wouldn't be sitting here right now if it wasn't for that.

    "Long ago, when the Founders of Hogwarts were still alive, before they'd created the Sorting Hat, and before Salazar Slytherin broke away from the other three, they wrote a prophecy together.  It foretold of bad times to come and of four Hogwarts students that would ultimately defend—or destroy—us all.  Minerva."

    Professor McGonagall picked up a large, heavy-looking book and flipped it open to where it was bookmarked.  She pushed her glasses up the bridge of her nose and read:

_Years from now, when us four are long gone, war_

_will ravage the lands of Light.  The four chosen by_

_our memory will be in charge of defending all we_

_hold dear.  One will be taken from each House,_

_and each taken will display qualities much like, if_

_not identical to ours.  Those four must unite_

_permanently and unconditionally.  The four must_

_not be torn apart by inner or outerforces.  If_

_ever the four should break apart, the Light side_

_too will be torn apart by infighting, and soon,_

_the Dark will be too strong to defend against,_

_and all will ultimately be lost._

McGonagall finished reading and looked up to see how the four had taken it.  Malfoy was scowling and looking confused, and Hermione looked thoughtful.  Justin was nodding to himself and Jenna remained quiet and staring at the floor.

    "This may be difficult for you to understand," Dumbledore said, as McGonagall put the book down.  "Basically what it means is that you four have been chosen for having the qualities the four Founders themselves had—the qualities they based their house selections on.  The '_memory_ _of_ _them'_ is the Sorting Hat.  It chose you.  The war has come now and you four must unite, no matter what differences you may sustain."

    "I'm still not getting this," Draco complained.  "_Why_ must we unite?  How's that going to help anybody?"

    Dumbledore sighed.  "Alas, I'm not making this clear enough, am I?  I have no real explanation for why it is imperative that you unite, it is one of the deepest forms of magic, unable to be explained or countered.  But you have to become one, a group that can fight together and trust each other.  If you do not, then the Light side will also become torn by war amongst itself and when a side is weakened by fighting from within, it becomes quite easy for the other side to take advantage of the weakness."

    "So, if we fight _at all_ we'll doom the Light side?" Hermione asked in horror.  If that was true, with her and Draco on the same team, Dark would be taking over in a matter of minutes.

    "No," Dumbledore said.  "You may have your petty squabbles and arguments, but I would encourage you not to.  Because if you fight frequently, you will fight easily.  And the more easily you fight with each other, the easier it will become for a true betrayal to happen to you, or for one of you to have enough and decide not to be a part of it.  It is when that happens that the Light side is in danger.  Do you understand?"

    "Yes, sir," Hermione said, feeling relieved.  She still wasn't sure whether she and Draco would be able to get along permanently, but as long as they could argue without dooming them all, it sounded a bit less imposing.

    "Now, you must understand, that this is _entirely secretive_," he said, stressing the last two words.  "We modified the memories everyone who was not chosen so that they do not remember ever having heard of this.  You can tell no one.  If word was ever to get back to Voldemort's ears that you four are The Key, then he could find you and kill you, hence enabling him to take over easily.  If even one of you dies, we are all doomed."

    "What if one of us doesn't die, but gets taken, or kidnapped, or something?" Justin asked, appearing very uneasy.

    "It will weaken us, but not destroy us.  As long as the one taken remains alive and faithful to The Key, then you four will retain some form of deep protection.  It will weaken us, though, to have one of you in Dark clutches, so try to avoid it if you can."  He smiled to show the last comment was a joke.

    "What happens if someone betrays us?" Hermione asked, her eyes unconsciously traveling to Draco.

    "Betrayal is quite a general term," Dumbledore commented.  "Depends on what you mean by it."

    "I mean . . . what if someone on our team sells us out to Voldemort, tells them who we are, where we are, or even joins him and his side?" Hermione asked.  _What if someone already has?_ she mentally wondered.

    "Then . . . we would be virtually destroyed, but not entirely.  If we lose one to the Dark side, it would weaken us horribly, tear this resistance in half, but some would still remain, and the Dark would have to fight to overcome us.  If we lose two of you to betrayal, or even one to death, it is truly over," Dumbledore said gravely.

    "Why do you keep calling us '_The_ _Key'_?" Malfoy asked.

    "It is the name I made up for your resistance.  Not much up to my usual standard of expertice, but I must admit that I put little thought into the matter."  Dumbledore's eyes twinkled in amusement.  "Change it if you wish.

    "So, you will go to classes and do everything normally.  However, every other evening at eight, you will come here for special classes.  You four will need to know protection spells very well, because there is a chance of Voldemort finding out who you are.  He already knows we are forming a resistance, but he knows not who it consists of.  Tell no one—not your best friends, not your family members, no one.  The teachers and staff all know, but no one else."

    Everyone nodded their agreement and Dumbledore allowed them all to go with some final words.  "I do apologize to you all for this.  You did not volunteer for this job, it was thrust upon you, and trust me when I say it will change all your lives drastically and permanently.  There was nothing I could do.  You four were predestined to do this.  I hope you can live up to the standards, even if you do not want to."

    They all descended the spiral staircase from Dumbledore's office silently and entered the main hallway, which was dark and deserted now, as it was past eleven.  Justin and Jenna started to head back by the hospital wing and Draco started to swagger back the other way, but Hermione caught his arm, stopping him.  

    "Hey!" he snarled, pulling his arm out of her grasp.  "Don't touch me, Mudblood.  Believe me, I haven't forgotten the promise I made to you on the train."

    Hermione ignored him and checked to make sure Jenna and Justin were out of sight, then turned back to him.  "Listen to me, Malfoy, and listen hard.  We have to work together to defend the Light side now and no matter what the Hat said when it chose you, I don't trust you, and I don't trust the fact that you aren't already a Death Eater.  If you are, we're doomed already.  So I want to know for certain that you aren't.  If you aren't, this whole thing will be kept quietly between the two of us.  If not, I'll have to tell Dumbledore.  It won't really do us any good, as it will tear the resistance apart, but I will tell him."

    "And why should I prove anything to you?" he asked in annoyance.  

    "Because if we have to be teammates, if we have to trust each other, we need to know that the other isn't hiding anything like being a spy," Hermione hissed.  "So lift up your sleeves, or I'll do it for you."

    Draco shifted from one foot to the other uncomfortably.  "No.  You'll just have to take my word for it, Granger.  I'm not a Death Eater."

    Hermione nodded slowly.  "Okay," she said.  "Whatever."

    Draco watched her suspiciously, then turned and started to continue on his way.  Suddenly, he felt a great force of weight on his back and the next thing he knew, he was pinned to the floor.  He yelled.  "_Hey_!"

    "Sorry, Malfoy, but I don't trust a word that comes out of your mouth!" Hermione snarled.  She struggled to keep him pinned, while at the same time pulling up both of his sleeves.  Both were bare of the Dark Mark, but his right arm had a faded, but nonetheless nasty-looking bruise on it, and his other had marks that looked like someone had buried their fingernails into it.  Hermione stopped, surprised, when she saw the marks.  This provided Draco with the time he needed to throw her off of him and scramble to his feet, pulling his sleeves down.

    "What the hell do you think your doing, Granger?!" he yelled.  "I told you I wasn't a Death Eater.  Now leave me alone!"

    Hermione pushed herself to her feet and brushed a lock of her hair out of her eyes.  "Malfoy . . ." she asked slowly.  "Draco . . . what were those marks?"

    "They aren't the Dark Mark, so it's none of your business," he hissed.  "I got into a fight, okay?  You know me—it happens all the time."

    "A fight without wands?  You always duel magically, not physically," she said slowly.

    "I told you—get away.  My life is my business and I don't need a filthy Mudblood meddling in it and making it hers.  So get away from me and do not mention any of this again," Malfoy said warningly.  "Or I mean it, if you do, I'll hurt you."  He turned and stalked away.  Hermione didn't move and watched him retreat.  

     She didn't know what Malfoy was hiding anymore.  It wasn't the Dark Mark, she knew now.  He might still be working as an underage spy for Voldemort, but she had no way to prove that.  Whatever it was, though, it was a risk to them all, as long as he kept it hidden.  A group with secrets among them was a group that wouldn't last.  And if they didn't last, all was lost.


	4. Destiny's Secret

::: 4 ::: _Destiny's Secrets_

_"I'm going back and forth,_

_No one to turn to._

_Slowly losing my mind,_

_So what am I doing?_

_If only you could see the pain and hurt in my soul,_

_But you don't understand me,_

_So how could you know?"_

_--P.O.D._

Life seemed to have been turned upside down for Hermione.  Being suddenly and unwillingly thrust into a war she had no desire to fight, and realizing that her participation was not a subject open to debate had turned her world inside out.  Everything she had once known for certain, everything she had once felt secure in believing seemed to have been torn apart and she felt horribly lost and confused.  When she walked down the corridors in the school now, she felt set apart, as though she were different from everyone she passed—she was an outsider, though no one knew it but her.  It left her with a strangely empty feeling inside, a feeling of hopelessness and regret.  McGonagall had done as promised and no one remembered the true reason they'd been called to the dungeons the night before.  The fact that she could not tell Harry or Ron, the two people she'd always counted on to help her through the tough times while at Hogwarts, made it all the more disturbing and troubling.  She now had to act as though she were the same as always, when nothing she'd once cared about seemed to matter any longer.  She couldn't tell her friends, under any circumstances, nor could she tell her parents.  The only people who knew were the teachers, Malfoy, Justin, and the new girl, Jenna, none of whom she cared to strike up a highly personal and emotional conversation with.  

    However, life around her went on as usual, unaware of the fact that one fifth year girl's life had been destroyed and rebuilt for her, leaving her with no say in the matter, and no chance to go back.  The corridors buzzed with the sounds of students on the weekend, and the Great Hall was full of food and conversation.  People she passed seemed, for the most part, happy, but even those who looked depressed and lost could not even begin to rival her own feelings of abandonment and depression.  She noticed as she walked in the corridors now that she felt out of place, like a black cat in a sea of white kittens.  Hogwarts had always been her haven, her sanctuary, her second home.  Now she felt like a stranger.

    Over the course of the weekend, Hermione stayed out of everyone's way.  She ate with Harry and Ron and struck up small talk sometimes, though her heart was never into it.  They never questioned her when she propped open a book at the table and read that rather than talked; she'd done it frequently enough in the past for it to be considered fairly normal, though Ron would still shake his head like she was crazy.  Neither boy took notice of her slightly out of the ordinary behavioral patterns.  She kept locked up in her dormitory for most of the weekend, doing her homework or reading.  She really didn't care for either activity, but it was more preferable than having to face her friends down in the common room.

    However, when Monday rolled around, she had no choice but to leave her voluntary prison and venture back down into the general school area.  She had to attend her classes as always, though it seemed like a horribly gruesome and impossible task.  She picked at her food at breakfast, eating little and saying nothing.  Once Harry asked her if she was okay, but she just shrugged and nodded, mumbling something about being tired.  Harry had looked at her oddly, as she was normally quite upbeat in the morning—_too_ upbeat, in his opinion—but he had shrugged it off and started up a conversation with Ron about Quidditch practices.

    Sometime around mid-breakfast, Dumbledore stood up and called for attention, as he seemed to be doing more frequently than usual.  "I would just like to remind you that your new Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher will be starting today.  Please show her the courtesy you would any teacher, particularly any new teacher.  Let's all give a round of applause for Professor Snape, who kindly agreed to fill in for the new professor, while her problems were being dealt with."

    The Slytherin table roared with applause and whistles.  None of the other students so much as looked up from their breakfasts at Snape, whom had made their lives torture the entire past week.

    Dumbledore thanked them and sat back down, apparently not noticing the lackluster response from his students.  Harry, Ron, and Hermione headed to Defense Against the Dark Arts soon after.  Harry and Ron were speculating curiously on their new teacher, though Hermione remained silent.  No doubt they were wondering why her curiosity in the new teacher had vanished, but they said nothing.

    When they entered the class, they immediately spotted a small, kind-looking old lady sitting at the desk, smiling at the kids as they came in.  Her storm-cloud gray hair was pulled back into a tight bun, and every time she smiled, the wrinkles and creases in her face were brought out.  Her deep brown eyes were hidden behind small glasses that were positioned halfway down her nose.  She wore robes of light sky blue.  Hermione and Ron walked in, both forcing smiles though neither felt much like smiling, due to their own circumstances.  Harry, however, had frozen in the doorway and was staring at the woman, his mouth open.  Kids coming in were shoving him out of the way.  When one succeeded in pushing him into the doorframe, he jolted back to his senses and moved into the classroom, still gaping. 

    "_Mrs. Figg_?" he asked incredulously, staring at her like he couldn't believe she was real.  Hermione, Ron, and the rest of the class were now watching the exchange with interest and confusion.

    She turned to him, but there was no surprise written on her face.  She smiled widely and stood.  "Harry, dear boy, it has been a long while!  I was wondering when I'd see you."  She moved forward and hugged him.  He was still too numb with disbelief to respond by hugging her back.  She moved away and studied his expression.  She nodded.  "Yes, this must be a shock for you, to learn I'm actually a witch."

    "A _shock_," Harry echoed in a faint, choked voice.  Talk about the understatement of the century!  "You could say that.  How long have you known . . . why didn't you tell . . . what are you doing here . . . the Dursleys . . ."

    She laughed at his confusion.  She looked at the class, all of whom were watching intently.  "Would you care to carry on in a more private place?"

    Harry shook his head.  "Not unless there's reason to."

    "Okay.  Here it is.  If you were asking how long I've known you were next door to me, then the answer is that I was placed there when they put you with the Dursleys.  I was assigned to keep an eye on you, and that I did.  I didn't tell you because I was not allowed to.  The Ministry of Magic had long ago forbidden it.  I could only interfere if it was necessary and you needed me."

    "I did need you!" Harry cried.  "I was living with the Dursleys for crying out loud!"

    She laughed again.  "Yes, that you were.  They are incorrigible people, aren't they?  But though you wanted out, that was not reason enough for me to break the law.  Before you even knew of your wizard heritage, it was certainly forbidden, and even after, I saw no point, as you were only there for the summers.  Although, I must admit, when they put the bars on your window I did come dangerously close to changing my mind about that.  Imagine my surprise when a flying car drove up and got you out."

    Harry grinned at the memory.  Ron spoke up from behind him.  "Uh, that was me and my brothers." He sounded slightly sheepish, but he was grinning from ear to ear.

    "A very good idea," Mrs. Figg complimented him.

    He blushed.  "My mum didn't think too highly of it."

    "No, I suppose she wouldn't have, but it was a good idea nonetheless.  You helped your friend.  Do not feel ashamed for that," she told him sternly, though she was smiling.  She turned back to Harry.  "Also, I must apologize for the time your aunt's dog chased you up that tree and held you for hours.  I wasn't home, or I'd have used magic to scare him away long before I did."

    Harry smiled.  "You did that, too?  I thought Ripper ran away oddly . . . Guess you really have been looking after me.  But what are you doing here?"

    "What does it look like?" she asked.  "Teaching Defense Against the Dark Arts.  Dumbledore and I are old friends.  It's a favor to him.  In fact, I may even last more than one year, unlike so many of your past professors."

    Harry nodded, but continued to study her.  Finally, she asked him why.  "I don't know," he said slowly.  "There's just something different about you.  Not that you're in wizard clothes, or anything like that, just something deeper . . . your voice!  You always sounded borderline crazy when you babysat me before.  Now you sound perfectly sane."

    "Thank you, I'm glad you think I'm not mad any longer.  I acted that way on purpose, on order from the Minister of Magic.  It's a strange but pleasurable experience to be able to talk to you without acting so oddly."  She smiled at him.  "I would be happy to continue our chat—but not here, and not now.  Perhaps you can come and speak to me tomorrow at lunch?  I'm quite full today.  We can't take anymore time away from your classmates, though."

    Harry looked around as though for the first time noticing they were not alone, and his face turned red.  "Sorry," he said, smiling.  "Why don't I sit down now?"  As it was rhetorical question, he didn't wait for an answer and walked to the back of the room to where his friends were, trying his best to ignore the stares he was getting from everyone.

    Mrs—no, he supposed he should now call her _Professor_—Figg, however, wasted no time in starting class.  With a smile, she greeted, "Welcome, everyone!  I'm glad my first class started on a happy note.  As a bit of information to you all—who seem quite happy I'm here for some reason—I was a week late because my younger sister was killed by He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named at the Ministry conference.  I do not wish to discuss it further."

    Ron glanced down at his desk, and several people turned to look at him.  Harry and Hermione did the opposite, averting their eyes.  Professor Figg watched all this with interest.  She wore a small smile, but her eyes were sad.  "I take it this boy has had a similar experience.  Please, I know how difficult it is.  Do not stare.  Give him his privacy."

    Ron looked up and gave her a half of a smile, before looking back down at his ink bottle, suddenly seeming quite interested in its ingredients.  

    "Now, while I call roll, please take out your books and open them to page one, where we will be starting . . ."

    The rest of the class went on as normal, and as they left, Professor Figg called after them a cheerful goodbye.  They headed down to Hagrid's hut for Care of Magical Creatures.  Harry and Ron were talking about how nice she was and what a shock it was for Harry to learn the truth in such a manner.  Hermione contributed little, not feeling much like talking.

    Care of Magical Creatures went as it usually did, with no unusual happenings, until the final minutes.  At the end of Care of Magical Creatures, Hagrid managed to get her away from the others by saying he needed her help with a few small fairy fly cages.  When they were out of a hearing distance from the others, Hagrid whispered, "How yeh, feelin', Hermione?"  He didn't look at her, so as not to let anyone think they were talking.

    Hermione shrugged a bit.  She didn't mind telling Hagrid how she felt, in fact it was a relief to be able to tell the truth.  "Not so good," she said quietly, lifting one of the heavy cages.

    Hagrid nodded understandingly.  "Figured as much.  Yeh bin mighty quiet all lesson.  'Course, it's no surprise why.  Yeh bin through a lot these pas' couple o' days, eh?"

    Hermione nodded.  "I suppose," she mumbled.  For some reason, she didn't feel like talking all of a sudden.  She was surprised at herself.  For the past three days she'd been wishing desperately for someone to talk to and had completely forgotten about Hagrid.  Now that she had found someone to confide in, she was shutting down.

    "Why don' yeh come on down ter me hut after lessons let out, if yer feelin' up ter it.  I think it might help yeh ter talk abou' it, and that's not exactly summat we can do righ' here.  Yeh don' have ter come, don' take me wrong; I'd never force yeh.  But if yeh wan' someone ter talk ter, I'm here.  I know yer pretty limited righ' now on people yeh can really open up ter," Hagrid said understandingly.  "Thanks the fer the help, Hermione," he added loudly enough for everyone to hear.

    Hermione nodded and walked back to Harry and Ron.  Ron was talking to Harry about how glad he was that this year they had Care of Magical Creatures lessons with only their own House, and Harry was nodding like he was listening.  However, Hermione noticed uncomfortably that his eyes had been tracking her.  He looked away quickly when she looked at him, but she knew he'd been watching her.  She began to worry.  Harry was smart and had a talent for being very analytical—what if he found out about her secret?  He was bound to notice her disappearances every other night for some mysterious class, and though he appeared to be in the dark about her behavior at the moment, how long would it last?  If Harry suspected something was wrong, he would not hesitate to investigate.  She trusted Harry and Ron beyond any type of trust she'd ever felt before.  She knew they'd never betray her to Voldemort should she tell them.  She was afraid, though, that they would be forced into admitting it.  Voldemort was already after Harry, and Ron was one of Harry's best friends.  If Voldemort got one of them and used Veritaserum, or the Imperious curse, or even torture, they could ultimately end up unconsciously betraying her.  That was why Dumbledore had told them to tell no one.  It was risk enough just for all the teachers to know.  She feared for Harry's life, for her own life and for the entire Light side.  Harry's concerned curiosity was too great a danger, but she didn't know what to do about it.

    He brought it up as they walked back to the castle.  "So, Hermione," he said casually, looking at the lake instead of her, "what were you and Hagrid talking about?"

    Hermione blurted out the first thing that came into her head.  "My grades," she said quickly, and she wished she could take the words back.  Even Ron looked suspicious now.  The lie had been told in a terrible manner.

    "Your grades?" Ron asked.  "What, worried you're getting an A minus?"

    Hermione shot him a look that told him quite clearly to shut up.  "No.  I was asking him about an extra credit assignment I was interested in pursuing.  He approved it."

    "Extra credit?" Now Ron sounded incredulous.  "How can you get better than one hundred percent, which is what I'm sure you're getting."

    Hermione rolled her eyes, but relaxed.  She'd obviously convinced Ron.  She glanced over at Harry and their eyes met.  She could see the suspicion, confusion, and worry mixed in his deep emerald eyes and averted her gaze, though she knew he'd seen the guilt and fear in her own eyes.  Harry would not be convinced, she realized in that moment.  He'd caught too many slip-ups from her.  No matter what she did from this point on, his suspicion would not disappear.

    Harry acted normally to her from that point on, but she wasn't fooled.  Ron didn't seem to take notice of the odd vibes between the two, as he was still rather withdrawn himself. 

    Though she hated having to go back to classes, for the most part, they were bearable.  It was Potions that was the worst, as always.  However, Snape was being particularly evil towards her that day.  She knew that he knew of her being a member of The Key, as Dumbledore called it.  However, that seemed to have made him hate her more.

    She had ditched Harry and Ron before going to Potions, saying she needed to use the bathroom, but when really she had just been trying to get a moment alone.  She still made it to Potions on time, but when she walked in, alone, she spotted Harry and Ron sitting in a corner.  They motioned to her and she started to walk toward them, but Snape's cold, leering voice stopped her in her tracks.

    "Miss Granger, where do you think you are going?"

    Hermione took a deep breath and slowly turned to face her professor.  She knew she wasn't in the mood to deal with Snape and his criticisms that day.  "To sit down, sir?" she suggested in a low voice.

    "Yes, but you were going over there to sit down," he said, pointing at Harry and Ron.  "I thought I told you last Monday—you have an assigned seat, now."

    "But . . . but, Professor, I . . . I thought that was only that once . . ." Hermione stammered, finally falling silent.  She knew that Snape was picking on her directly, as he had let Harry and Ron sit together, but they were her friends.  She wasn't going to point that out to him and make them move too.  She noticed that the Slytherins were laughing at her pathetic attempts at reasoning.

    "Well, it wasn't," Snape snarled.  "You know, Miss Granger, for an intelligent witch, you do seem to have trouble with the English language.  Perhaps a class transfer is in order?"

    Hermione flushed in embarrassment and was on the verge of walking out in annoyance.  She didn't want to take this from Snape.  Not today.  She unconsciously averted her eyes and found herself staring at Draco, who was sneering cruelly.

    "No, Professor," she said numbly.  "Where am I to sit?"

    "Over there, by Mr. Malfoy, where you sat last time."  

    Hermione felt disappointment overwhelm her.  Draco was no longer looking cocky, but instead quite horrified and annoyed.  "Why there, sir?" she asked, knowing she was pushing her luck.  "Harry may fight with him, but I do as well."

    "I feel it would be good for you to get better acquainted.  It could come in handy one day," Snape said, and she knew very well what he was referring too.  In his eyes, he was helping The Key become stronger, but she knew he was also enjoying tormenting her in the process.

    She nodded, not looking for a fight, and went over to sit by Malfoy, feeling bleak.  The second she'd sat down, before he could say a word, she turned to him.  "Leave me alone, Malfoy," Hermione warned.  "Believe me, the way I feel today, I will not hesitate to blast you up three floors if you decide to mess with me."

    For once, he didn't sneer and reply rudely.  He just stared at her and said simply, "And you don't think I feel the same way?"  

    As this was the last reply she'd expected, Hermione froze, letting the next threatening words she'd been preparing die in her throat.  He turned away.  "No, of course you don't.  I'm subhuman to you.  And to tell you the truth, I don't really care.  Just leave me alone and I will leave you alone.  This is no permanent truce—quite the contrary.  But not today."

    "Not today," Hermione echoed, still a bit shocked by Draco's reply.  She knew she shouldn't be—she knew that the others had to have been having similar reactions to hers.  Somehow, though, she'd never thought Draco would react to it with anything less than annoyance.  Apparently, he had.

    _Of course he has,_ she realized.  _He may not yet be a Death Eater, but I'm certain he plans to become one.  He's loyal to Voldemort and to the Dark side.  Now he's been told he is predestined to defend the _light_ side.  He has to at least _pretend_ he's going to, even if he has no intention of doing so in the long-term._  She cursed the hat—and destiny—for choosing Draco Malfoy as one of the defenders of the Light side.  He was certain to betray them eventually.  He was a true Slytherin, that had been proven.  But hadn't Salazar Slytherin himself betrayed the other founders?  Wasn't that proof enough?

    Hermione turned her attention away from her grim thoughts of betrayal and death and made herself focus on Snape's drawling words.  They were now talking about Depression Droughts—something Hermione certainly didn't need to sample right then, unless Snape was aiming to make her commit suicide—and though Hermione tried to focus, she found it hard, just as it had been in all her other classes up until that point.  Her focus tuned in and out, like an old radio with bad transmission. Snape instructed them all to begin brewing their potions—on their own this time—which Hermione was relieved for.  Her relief was short-lived, as she realized she had forgotten to take notes and she remembered only half of what Snape had instructed.  She looked across the room at Harry and Ron, who were reading their notes over, and wished she could find a way to get help from them.  Snape was looking at her, though, and following her line of sight.  She locked eyes with her professor and his eyes were daring her to try to get help from her friends.  Hermione knew that they weren't an option and looked away.  She looked at Draco out of the corner of her eye.  She knew he knew what he was doing, but she would never give up her pride and ask the Slytherin—and imminent betrayer—for potion advice.

    Hermione did what she knew, stirring in some Griffin blood and chopped lizard tails, but was soon out of information to go from.  She sat back in her chair and stared at her cauldron and the half-done potion inside, waiting for Snape to come around and realize her lack of attention to his instructions.

    Draco glanced over at her.  "Need help?"  His tone was taunting, a condescending, fake smile on his face.  Any thought of asking him for help was chased from her mind instantly.  She bristled.

    "No.  I know quite well what I'm doing, thanks.  I was resting," she said, and immediately regretted even saying the last three words.

    "Suit yourself," he said, glancing skeptically at her potion and her few notes, then turning back to his own, nearly ready potion.

    Soon, Snape was making his rounds by her table.  He stopped at her cauldron and looked in at the pathetic attempt at a potion.  Hermione was staring at the table in shame and apprehension, waiting for the explosion to come.  

    "Well, Miss Granger, have you been taking lessons from Mr. Longbottom?" he asked.  "Because this is quite wrong.  Let's see your notes.  May I?"  He didn't wait for her answer and picked up her notes.  She dared to look up at him and saw his beady eyes darting across the paper, a sneer on his face.  He set the notes down.  "Quite disappointing.  I'd have thought _you_ at least, would have the sense to write down everything.  Perhaps detention is in order for this . . . little mess."

    "Professor," Draco spoke up from next to her.  Hermione groaned inwardly.  Now Malfoy was going to make it worse, making it seem like she'd done something else worthy of detention.  "It's not her fault."

    Hermione's head snapped up and she stared at him.  He didn't look at her, but continued.  "The notes are half done because I kept distracting her.  I didn't even take notes, but I remembered what you said.  I messed up her potion, knocked some extra lizard tails in it.  Sorry."

    Snape was staring at Draco with a look he'd never used with the boy before—anger and loathing, something he usually reserved for Harry, Ron, Hermione, and Neville.

    He put his hands on the table where the two sat so his face was uncomfortably close to theirs.  He looked around to make sure no one was within listening distance.  "Just because the two of you have special "status" now, does not allow for you to lie and not pay attention.  You're getting a mentality rather like Harry Potter's, Miss Granger.  Perhaps you should lessen your time with him.  And you're no better, Mr. Malfoy.  Lying for her is not acceptable!  I may have gone easy on you in the past, but I will not allow for you to get a big head, just because you think you're both the best in Hogwarts."

    "We do not!" Hermione replied indignantly, fighting to keep her voice a whisper.  "Do you have any idea how stressful, and frightening, and horrible this is for us?"

    With his cold glare fixed on her, she realized she'd made a grave mistake in speaking to him in that manner.  "Ten points from Gryffindor, and ten from Slytherin."  Draco's mouth fell open.  Points had _never_ been taken from _him_ in this class before.  Hermione just took it silently, as it happened to her all the time.  "And a detention for you each.  See me after class."  He stood, casting a last surly glance at them both, then stalked away towards Neville, who saw Snape coming and accidentally poured in too many aspen leaves.

    The two watched him walk away, then looked at each other.  "Guess he hates me now too," Draco commented quietly.  "Your last comment was right, though it did lose us points.  He doesn't get it."

    "Neither do I," Hermione replied quietly.  "I don't get why you seem to be sticking up for me now.  If it were Justin or Jenna, I'd believe they were trying to be friends with me, to form a bond so The Key can remain strong.  You, though . . . I don't  believe for a second that this isn't a hoax, and that you aren't just trying to get me on your side for some much more sinister reason.  And you may not be happy with this, but it's probably just because you don't want to fight for the Light side when you're a Dark supporter.  So quit playing games with me, Malfoy.  I'm not so easily fooled."

    He stared at her.  "Nice way to say thanks, Granger," he shot at her.  "I don't even know why I bother.  You're just a stuck-up Gryffindor, who'll never accept me."

    "And you're just an arrogant Slytherin who'll never be trustworthy," Hermione said, her eyes narrowed at him in anger.

    Draco scowled, shook his head, then turned back to his potion.  He said nothing more to her for the rest of the lesson, and when class was over, Hermione was desperate to get her detention assigned, get Transfiguration over with, then go back to Gryffindor common room.

    She motioned for Harry and Ron to wait outside and walked to Snape's desk with Draco.  Hermione was assigned detention for the next night—with Snape himself, of course—and Draco for the day after.  As they headed for the door, he called warningly, "Though I do not underestimate the importance of your position, I will not take this sort of behavior."

    Draco and Hermione said nothing in response and quickly left the classroom.  Hermione smiled at Harry and Ron, who had been standing outside the door.  Draco hesitated a moment, watching them.

    "What are you looking at, Malfoy?" Ron snarled.  "Hasn't Hermione—and Harry and me, for that matter—seen enough of you for one day?  Get out of here!"

    Draco's familiar sneer was planted once more on his face.  "I was, Weasley.  But, just in case you were wondering, I don't have to do what you say."

    Ron pulled out his wand.  "This makes it so that you _do_ have to."

    Draco's eyes narrowed, and he pulled out his own wand.  "Don't threaten me.  In a duel, you would be down on your knees kissing my shoes and begging me not to kill you in a matter of seconds.  Don't make me bring that pleasant picture to reality."

    "Just shut up and get out, Malfoy," Harry growled. 

    Malfoy shrugged and tucked his wand back into his robes.  "Bye, Hermione," he said to her, then stalked off down the hall.

    Harry turned to her, his brow narrowed in confusion.  "What is up with him?  I don't believe he's _ever_ called you Hermione in five years.  And what was going on with Snape, him, and you?"

    "Oh, that?  He was just . . . messing with my potion," Hermione lied.  "And whatever he's playing at by calling me by my first name is something I'm unaware of.  He's been acting rather odd lately."

    "So have you," Harry said, gazing at her imploringly.  Hermione ducked her head, not wanting to have to look him in the eyes and allow him an second opportunity to see her guilt.

    "I haven't any idea what you're speaking of," Hermione mumbled, digging in her bag for her Transfiguration book.  "You know how I am at school—wrapped up in my work.  There's O.W.L.s this year, so I'm particularly distracted with my studies.  I'm sure you can understand that."

    "Not that kind of odd, Hermione," Harry replied in a voice that sounded as though he was disappointed.  He looked away, a hurt expression on his face.  

    Hermione knew the only reason he didn't say anything more was because Ron was present and was looking at them both in confusion.  He said nothing, which she was grateful for.  She already had Harry looking into her secrets.  She didn't need Ron to be doing the same.

    They got to Transfiguration just as it was starting and it earned them a stiff glare from Professor McGonagall.  Compared to the rest of her classes that day, Transfiguration was average and dull, which was a nice change.  At the end of class, Professor McGonagall called her up to her desk as everyone else was leaving.  

    "Miss Granger, I'm disappointed in your tardiness today," Professor McGonagall said, her tone stern, but her eyes apparently not in it.  "I want you to be sure it doesn't happen again.  You're one of our best students and I don't want that going downhill."

    Hermione's jaw had dropped.  Did McGonagall honestly think things were the way they'd always been and that she wasn't at all affected by the news she'd learned last Friday?  McGonagall looked around to make sure there were no students left.  "You may go," she said calmly, looking back down at her sheet and inconspicuously pushing a small envelope toward Hermione with her left hand.  

    Hermione didn't comprehend for a moment, then realized that McGonagall was giving it to her and she didn't intend to say anything else.  Hermione reached over and picked the envelope, confused.  She tucked it in her bag and left the classroom to find Harry and Ron waiting.  At Harry's suspicious glare, she turned her gaze to Ron, hating the pressure he was putting on her.  "She wanted to talk to me about being tardy."

    "Why not us, too?" Harry asked.

    "Because you're late sometimes and I'm her best student, so she just wanted to lecture me," Hermione said with a shrug.  "Shall we head to the Great Hall?"

    "Yes, I think so.  I'm rather hungry," Ron commented and the three started off for dinner.  Hermione could feel Harry glancing at her every so often.  She wondered whether or not he'd seen her pick up the envelope and also wondered, for the first time, if he'd heard Snape's last comment to her and Draco.  Three days after finding out and already someone was onto her.

    She rushed through her dinner, the envelope given to her by Professor McGonagall seeming to burn a hole in her bag.  Even Ron noticed her strange behavior at dinner, and she was soon forced to slow down for the sake of normalcy.

    Ron glanced up from his chicken.  "What are you doing?" he asked, looking at her like she was crazy.

    "Eating, what does it look like?" Hermione snapped, shoving another bite of food into her mouth.

    "Trying to win a race?  Because no one else seems to be competing."  

    Hermione realized how fast she'd been eating and quickly slowed, murmuring to Ron that she hadn't even realized that she'd been eating at that speed until he'd mentioned it.  He looked at her oddly, but seemed to buy it.  Harry had made no comment, but Hermione knew he was mentally tallying up all her mistakes and that sooner or later, he would find a way to get her alone and throw them all at her. 

    She excused herself, claiming a stomach ache, which made Ron snort into his pumpkin juice.  "No surprise," she heard him comment to Harry as she was leaving.  "Never seen anyone eat any faster."

    She hurried up to her dorm in Gryffindor tower and immediately ripped open the letter.  All that it contained was a brief message written in Professor McGonagall's neat, tiny script:

                                    _Hermione Granger,_

_                                      Please come to Professor Dumbledore's office_

_                                    Tonight at eight.  The password is 'Butterbeer.'_

_                                                Professor M . McGonagall_

Hermione read the message three times before taking her wand and incinerating it over her trash can, watching the cooling ashes swirl down into it's depths, knowing no one could ever read it or see any piece of evidence that confirmed her new life.  She felt certain that Justin, Malfoy, and Jenna had gotten the same messages.  Professor Dumbledore had spoken of training and bonding sessions.  She supposed they would begin tonight.  

    She went down to the common room and worked on her homework until eight.  Ron and Harry joined her, treating her as they always would have.  At eight, she began to pack her books away.  

    Harry looked up at her.  "Where are you headed to?  Your homework isn't finished."

    Hermione scowled, not in the mood to have to put up with Harry's insights into her unintentional and incriminating mistakes.  "You're not my father, you can't tell me I must finish my work before doing anything else."

    "I don't think he was trying to," Ron said slowly, glancing at Harry, then looking at her.  "I'm pretty sure he just meant that you _always_ finish your homework, without fail.  It's just weird, that's all."  Harry nodded, showing Ron had guessed his meanings right.

    "I'll finish it when I do," Hermione informed them.  "Right now, I'm going."

    "Where?"

    Hermione just shook her head.  "Take care of my books, okay?  I'm already going to be late."  She turned and headed for the portrait hole, ignoring the stares that followed her.  The second the portrait swung shut behind her, she let out a sigh and fell back against the wall, tilting her head up to look out one of the high windows at the moon and stars.

    "Troubled, Deary?"

    Hermione turned her head to look at the Fat Lady, who was looking at her in sympathy from her portrait.  Hermione nodded.  "You've no idea."

     "Well, don't worry, hon.  Problems tend to sort themselves out, eventually.  I'm sure you'll be okay."

    Hermione nodded and made an indistinct sound in her throat, but didn't really reply.  The Fat Lady could have no idea that her problems didn't consist of homework and boyfriends like most girls her age.  Her problems consisted of war, trust, fear, and death—things most girls her age would have a nervous breakdown over having to handle.  But that wasn't an option for her.  And somehow she doubted her problems would end up sorting themselves out on their own.  She'd have to help them do it.  

    But she had no idea how.


	5. Destiny's Mistake

::: 5 ::: _Destiny's Mistake_ "We've seen our share of ups and downs. Oh how quickly life can turn around 

_In an instant."_

_--Creed_

When Hermione finally reached Dumbledore's office, she was already fifteen minutes late.  She was panting heavily for having run all the way from Gryffindor Tower.  She'd been stopped by Filch halfway there and she remembered the encounter with distaste. 

    "Stop there!" he had hollered at her when he saw her run past him.  Startled, she stopped in her tracks and turned to face him.

    She had winced, seeing the look of fury blended with pleasure on his ugly, frightening face.  "Yes, Mr. Filch?" she'd asked.  She knew Harry and Ron had had encounters with the man before, but she'd never really had a one-on-one problem with him.

    "Where do you think you're going?  It's past the time you are supposed to be in your common room.  So the question really isn't why you're out here—it's what we should do with you for being out here."

    "I'm going to a meeting with Dumbledore," she said, hoping he would understand the underlying meaning in her words, but feeling pretty certain he hadn't been told that she had been chosen.

    He barked out a laugh.  "I've heard lame excuses in my day, but that must be the lamest of all.  Follow me to my office—now."  

    Dejected, Hermione was forced to walk all the way down two floors from the floor where Dumbledore's office sat.  Hermione knew she didn't have time to explain it all to him and even if she did he wouldn't believe her.  So, when he was fumbling with the lock to the door to his office, she took her chances and ran off, bounding up the stairs.

She heard him yelling after her, but did not stop.  Dumbledore would explain to him that she was not to be punished for her actions—she just had to get to his office.

So, by the time she'd reached there, it was eight-fifteen.  She gave the gargoyle the password breathlessly, still looking behind her to make sure Filch wasn't pursuing her, then ran up to the Headmaster's office.

When she burst into the office, Justin, Jenna, and Malfoy were already there, as well as Professor McGonagall.  All turned to look at her as she closed the door and she felt self-consciousness rise up.

"Erm, sorry I'm late Professor. Please allow me to explain . . ." So Hermione explained about how Filch had stopped her.

"I'll speak with him," McGonagall said shortly.  "I've been telling the headmaster for over a year now that we need a new caretaker.  I'm certainly glad Albus didn't tell him that the four of you are The Key.  Filch's temper has gotten ridiculously short, as well as his memory, and he's become quite sinister and unpleasant."

"Oh, so he hasn't _always_ been that way?" Draco asked in a surly, sarcastic tone.  

For once, she agreed with Malfoy, though she'd never admit it out loud to him.  Four chairs were lined up, just as they had been last time, so she took her seat, inbetween the arrogant, annoyed Draco and the quiet, withdrawn Jenna.

Professor McGonagall stood in front of them.  "The headmaster is not available, so I will be teaching your class today.  Instead of spells, we will be focusing on group bonding.  If we cannot work as a team, there is no point in even learning spells."

"Excuse me," Draco said, interrupting.  "If we _can't_ work as a team, and we all agree we don't want to do this, could the Key just diminish without damage to the Light side?"

Hermione's heart leaped into her throat as she waited for McGonagall's answer.  It was a prospect she'd never considered, but one that appealed to her greatly.  She just wanted out of this.

McGonagall sighed.  "No, Draco, I'm sorry.  The decision was made.  There is no way out.  If you agree to break apart, than the Light side will begin to break apart as well.  The second we realized we had the option, the second we took it, it could not be reversed.  Once you were picked, the prophecy was put into motion, and it cannot be stopped now.  I apologize.  I suppose we did not think of what this responsibilty would do to you all.  Three of you are only fifteen, and the fourth is but eleven, not even a teenager.  We weren't looking at the means—just the end.  And now that that mistake has been realized, it is too late to back out."

Hermione let out a breath she didn't know she'd been holding, and suddenly realized she was on the edge of tears.  She had not cried once since learning of her fate, and she didn't want to start now, particularly in front of all these people—in front of Draco Malfoy!  But the disappointment had been too much for her.  She hadn't cried, because she'd known there was no way out.  She'd never even considered looking for one, trusting that the teachers had already looked.  She'd just faced what was happening, and what was to come.  Then Draco had spoke up with a possibility for escape, and every fiber of her being had wanted it, had desired it beyond her deepest imaginings.  Of course, it hadn't turned out the way she'd wanted.  She swallowed, pushed the tears back, and focused on McGonagall again.  _You shouldn't have gotten your hopes up anyway,_ she scolded herself.  _You should have known it was too good to be true._

"So," McGonagall continued, "we will try and get you all to bond, to become one.  I'd like you all to start off by talking, telling each other your names and backgrounds.  Knowledge of another helps bind trust and friendship."

Justin and Jenna didn't looked fazed by this at all.  Draco and Hermione, however, were another matter.  Draco looked outraged, and Hermione annoyed.

"Share my personal past?" Draco asked incredulously.  "That's my business, not theirs.  And I intend for it to remain that way, thanks."

"I think we already know each other's names, and though I don't really care if they know my background, I see no point in this.  Talking will not bond me any closer than I already am to . . . certain people in this room."  Hermione shot a look at Draco as she said the last words, and McGonagall followed her gaze.

"Miss Granger, I know you and Mr. Malfoy have been enemies for years.  I know that you must be having extreme difficulty accepting him for a friend, but it must be done if the Light side is to remain united.  And keep in mind, the Hat _did _pick him.  It must have had reason to."

Hermione scowled.  "Reasons to which we are unaware.  And it didn't pick him because he was a good person who would help the Light side succeed.  It picked him because he was the perfect Slytherin, almost kin to the original Founder.  To list just a few of Salazar Slytherin's faults, he was a man who wound up leaving the other Founders, and he hated Muggle-borns.  In case no one has noticed, my parents are Muggles, and he's been happy to torment me about it for years.  How do we know he's not a Dark supporter?"

"Miss Granger, that's enough!" McGonagall repremanded, and Hermione suddenly was very embarrassed.  Everyone was staring at her, and she realized she'd been arguing viciously with a teacher—not something she made a habit of doing.

"I . . . I'm sorry, I just . . . lost my head, I guess . . ." she stammered, still not meeting anyone's gaze.

Draco, all the while, said nothing.  He did not bother to deny her accusations, nor confirm them.  They would think what they would, and he wasn't about to do anything to change their opinions of him.  He truly didn't care what they thought.  

"Quite all right," McGonagall replied, actually looking contrite.  "I understand you're stressed."

For the rest of the meeting Hermione was silent and despondent, not wanting to open her mouth and let something else stupid come out.  McGonagall had them talk to each other.  Draco kept his background breif and uninteresting, and they all knew he was still keeping secrets and lying.  Hermione talked about herself, but didn't really care much about it.  Justin, as always, talked happily and animatedly.  Jenna talked in a small, quiet voice, and gave the impression she hated to talk to a group like she was.

By the time class was over, it was ten, and all were tired and yawning.  McGonagall gave them all instructions to come back Wednesday, and Friday, and so on, continuing every other day unless they received notice.

This time there was no talk among them, and Draco and Hermione parted immediately.  Hermione reached the common room soon after, which was more vacant than it had been when she'd left, but still not entirely empty.  Harry and Ron were gone, which she was grateful for.  She'd had too much for one day to have to deal with their questions too.

She made it to her bed, then collapsed atop it, knowing she had not finished her homework, but refusing to let herself care.  Most of it wasn't due tomorrow anyway, and what was she could do at breakfast.  She drifted off almost immediately into a deep, yet troubled sleep.

***********

The next morning at breakfast, Hermione was rushing to finish her Potions homework, knowing that she was enough trouble with Snape, had a detention that night, and that he would not excuse her, despite what he knew of her secret.  

Harry and Ron were watching her and saying nothing.  They'd learned their lesson last night, but both were still confused when it came to Hermione's strange behavior.

"So, you guys glad we only have three classes today?" Ron suggested brightly.

"Yeah, great," Hermione said, not looking up, and making Ron doubt she'd even heard what he'd said. 

"What three?  I haven't memorized my schedule yet," Harry asked.

"First we have Charms, then Potions, and Care of Magical Creatures.  I'm glad Hagrid hasn't been making us handle dangerous creatures so far this year.  It's a nice break from the pain and the stress."

"You don't know _anything_ about stress, Ron!" Hermione snapped, looking up for the first time.

"Excuse me, my brother just died," Ron growled.  "I think I know a _little_ _bit_ about stress.  And what would you consider stress?  You're life is practically picture-perfect."

Hermione let out a high-pitched, nervous laugh.  "Oh, you could not be further from right," Hermione said, then wanted to hit herself.  She'd said far too much.

"What, are you trying to take every class available again?" Ron asked cruelly.  

"If I was, I would not tell you, thanks," Hermione shot, her eyes narrowing.

The two of them glared at each other for a moment, then Hermione broke their contact and continued with her homework, her lips pursed in anger at both herself and Ron.  Ron shook his head in annoyance and continued to eat his toast.

Harry watched the exchange with interest, knowing from past experience that getting involved in one of Ron and Hermione's fights would mean losing one of them for a while.  He wondered what was going on with Hermione.  Why was she so stressed out?  Why was she doing her homework at breakfast, instead of getting it done at night as usual?  Where had she gone last night?  He didn't know the answer to any of those questions—but he swore to himself he'd find out.

"Oh!" Hermione cried, looking up all of the sudden at the High Table where Hagrid was eating.  "Shoot!" she said in a quieter voice.  Hagrid had been expecting her the night before, but she hadn't come.  The least she could have done was sent him an owl telling him she could not make it.  Instead she'd completely forgotten.

"What's wrong, Herm?" Harry asked.

"Nothing," Hermione said quickly.  Seeing his face darken with resignation, she corrected herself.  "It was just . . . Hagrid invited me to come down to his hut last night, but I didn't make it, and I didn't tell him."  
  


"Oh, is that all?" Harry asked.  "We've got his class today.  Just go down and visit him tonight, and apologize during class.  I'll come with you.  I'm sure Ron would like to see Hagrid too, so we can all go."

"Ah, yes, okay," Hermione said, not wanting to say no and make them even more suspicious.

Harry studied her, smiled and shook his head.  "You don't want us to come with you, do you?  If you want to talk to Hagrid by yourself, that's fine.  Just tell me."

Hermione nodded.  "Yes, I'd rather talk to him alone.  I'm just having some . . . family difficulties lately.  I'd like to talk with him."  Ron snorted in annoyance at the term "family difficulties" and she knew he was thinking about his brother.  She felt guilty for the lie, and she felt even more guilty when Harry appeared to believe her and accept her word.

Classes went quickly that day, much to Hermione's relief.  During Care of Magical Creatures, she apologized to Hagrid and promised him she'd come down later.  Harry and Ron stayed away from her, and didn't say much.  Ron was angry, and Harry was suspicious.  Hermione was careful to say little so as not to tip them off further.

After Potions—a horrible experience, but at least this time it was only one hour, rather than two—Hermione returned to Gryffindor tower, threw her books down, and then headed back down towards Hagrid's.

As she was raising her hand to knock on the door, she heard Fang's thunderous barks begin to resound from inside the cabin, and Hagrid's voice hollering, "Fang, yeh great git, keep it down!  I'm gettin' the door, already, will yeh calm down—"

The door flew open before Hermione had even knocked once, and Hagrid stood there, pushing his dog back with one hand and holding the door open with the other.  "Hello, Hermione," he greeted her pleasantly.  "Please, come on in."

Hermione thanked him and entered.  Immediately after the door closed, Fang got loose from Hagrid's grasp and ran up to Hermione, jumping up on her and putting his paws on her chest, licking her face with his giant, salivating tongue.  Hermione smiled, and attempted to push the dog away, but Fang would not be deterred until Hagrid came over, grabbed the boarhound's collar, and led him over to the bed.

"Sit.  Stay!" he commanded his dog, and Fang obediently curled up on Hagrid's bed, his eyes tracking his owner.  Hagrid turned to Hermione.  "Sorry 'bout that.  Always gets tha' way after one o' me lessons.  All them kids out there, and he can' go out an' meet 'em.  Last class o' the day jus' ended, so he's still a bit wound up.  My apologies if his paws were muddy."

Hermione glanced down at her shirt, and shook her head.  "No, they weren't.  I don't mind.  He's a sweet dog.  Bit hyper, but sweet."

Hagrid smiled at her.  "Take a seat.  I can make some tea if yeh'd like."

Hermione shook her head.  "Water will suffice," she said calmly, and watched as Hagrid pulled out a glass and filled it with water.  If she were to be perfectly honest, she'd have to admit that she wasn't really thirsty at all.  She just wanted to delay the inevitable conversation, but didn't want to cause Hagrid a lot of work.  

"Rock cakes?" he asked as he set down her glass of water and she took a small sip.  She shook her head quickly, knowing better than to eat Hagrid's rock cakes.

"No, thanks, not hungry," she said politely.  Hagrid took the seat across from her and stirred some pumpkin juice in a glass.  

"So, how've yer classes bin?  Snape still an insufferable git?" Hagrid asked, amused, but really just making small talk to delay the conversation, just like Hermione.

"Yes, you could say that," Hermione said dryly.  "Actually, I've got detention for him tonight at seven.  Apparently not focusing because you're destracted by life-altering events and messing up your potion is a crime punishable by detention."  She realized that she had unintentionally brought on the conversation she'd been trying to avoid.  She waited for Hagrid to reply.

He cleared his throat.  "Uh, yeah, I wanted ter talk teh yeh abou' tha', actually," he said awkwardly.  "Me bein' one o' the teachers, I know about yeh bein' chosen for The Key an' all.  Jus' wanted ter let yeh know that yeh can talk ter me, if yeh need ter.  I know yeh can' talk ter yer parents, or Harry an' Ron, so . . ."

She smiled, but it quickly faltered.  "Thanks, Hagrid.  Sorry I didn't come last night.  Dumbledore summoned us and—"

Hagrid held up a hand to silence her.  "No need ter explain, Hermione.  I trust yeh, and yeh don' have ter tell me what happened.  'Sides, I never made it mandatory fer yeh ter come, an' yeh never said yeh would.  Yeh can' break a promise yeh didn' make in the firs' place."

"Thanks.  Sorry if I seem distant, but what else can you expect?  My future, which I've worked so hard for the past five years of my life, was just decided for me and I have no chance to change the decision.  My life is being planned out for me and I hate it."

"Wasn' fair," Hagrid said darkly.  "I was part o' the committee tha' was in charge of decidin' how ter go about all this."  Hermione looked at him in surprise.  "Yeah, I was.  I kept tellin' 'em tha' they couldn' jus' force the kids inter this, tha' they needed ter on'y test kids who wanted ter be tested.  None of 'em listened.  All said it wouldn' work.  McGonagall was leanin' my way, and Dumbledore understood wha' I was was meanin', but no one else even considered my idea.  They don' really even consider me a teacher, even though I am now, so they were all kinda bitter I was even there.  I'm so sorry, Hermione.  I always thought it was unfair ter the chosen child if they had no say, but I never imagined you'd . . . I fough' real hard fer it, 'cause ter be honest, I suspected Harry'd be chosen.  But fer some reason, I never considered you or Ron.  I wish I'd fought harder."

Hermione shook her head.  "I never knew you'd been involved in it all—never even knew there was a committee.  But don't blame yourself.  If what you say is true, no matter how hard you had fought, you'd still have been ignored.  And I think we all thought Harry would be chosen.  I wish he had been.  He'd be able to deal with this a lot better than I will be able to."

"How yeh feelin' abou' it all?" he asked quietly, and she could tell he felt guilty despite what she'd said.

Hermione shrugged.  "I'm terrified, for starters.  I have to go up against _Lord_ _Voldemort_.  I'm frightened for myself and my family.  I'm also scared that I'll mess up, and that because of me, The Key will break up, and the Light side will be doomed."

"Don'  be," Hagrid scolded.  "Yeh're the mos' intelligent witch in this school, I daresay.  Doesn' matter if yeh're on'y a fifth year.  I'd still be willin' ter bet tha' yer smarter than most, if not all, the seventh years.  The Key won' break up because of yeh.  In fact, if anyone will lead 'em ter great victory, it'll be you.  However, I think it's a good idea ter be scared fer yerself and yer family.  It's a danger, all righ'.  But as long as You-Know-Who doesn' know who yeh are, he can' send anyone after yeh, or yer family.  An' of the people who know, I don' think any would betray us.  And don' even mention Snape, as you three always have a tendency ter do.  He's a real piece o' work, but he ain' a traitor."

"No," Hermione said shortly.  "But I'd easily bet that Draco Malfoy is.  And he's one of The Key."

Hagrid seemed to think about that.  "Yeh got a point.  How's he act toward yeh?"

"Hostile.  He hates me, always has.  You know him—he hates Muggle-borns, he hates Harry, he hates Dumbledore.  I'm a Muggle-born, I'm Harry's best friend, and I'm a big fan of Dumbledore.  He's hated me since day one.  This year though, it's reached new hights.  He attacked me on the train, then threatened me, and he's been enjoying tormenting me all this year.  He's even trying to act nice to me, but it's all an act, I can tell."

"He attacked yeh?" Hagrid asked angrily.  "How so?"

"Used some spell that sent me flying across the train car and into the wall.  I'd been defending Ron—and myself—from him, because he was causing trouble.  He threatened to tell his "connections" that I was a problem, and that they'd, "take care of me."  I told him I wasn't scared and turned my back on him, and he attacked me.  He later told me that Harry just barely stopped him from using the Cruciatus Curse on me."

"Tha' little . . . I can see why he was chosen fer Slytherin's perfect match.  But, no, I wouldn' put a betrayal pas' him fer one second.  We've just gotta hope, I suppose.  Nothin' else we can do."

Hermione nodded, and the two sat in silence for a minute.  Finally, Hermione stood.  "Thank you for talking to me, Hagrid.  It helped.  I'll keep what you said in mind.  I need to do my homework now, though.  I couldn't do it last night, I have more now, and I have detention later.  I'm very behind."

"Tha's okay," he assured her, chuckling.  "Jus' glad I could help.  I hope everythin' gets better fer yeh, Hermione, yeh didn' deserve this.  Yeh can talk ter me whenever yeh need teh.  Oh, an' don' worry 'bout the homework from my class.  Turn it in when yeh can.  I understand yer swamped."

Hermione smiled.  "I'll turn it in when it's due."

Hagrid laughed full-out this time.  "There's no reasonin' with yeh, is there?  Okay, but if yeh ever have a problem and _can't_ get it in, don' worry.  Good luck with Snape tonight."

"I'll need it," Hermione muttered.  "Goodbye, Hagrid, and thanks."  She scratched Fang on the head, then left the hut.

As she headed back up to the castle, she felt a lot more relieved than she had when she'd been going down.  Though she'd thought she couldn't manage to talk to anybody, it had not only been easy to talk to Hagrid, it had helped her enormously to know someone was there for her to talk with.  And even that small bit made it easier—easier, but not easy.  Still far from easy.

She had a feeling that it would never be easy again.

*********

Later that night, Hermione mumbled the password to the Fat Lady, and stumbled into Gryffindor Tower.  It was past midnight, and Snape had kept her late, making her stock and inventory different potion ingredients, all the while making snide and loathful comments about her, her new status, and her work.  She'd come close to storming out of the detention more than once, but had managed to stick it out until the end somehow.

She still had two more homework assignments due the next day to complete, and knew that she would be up all night completeing them.  And the next night she had to go to Dumbledore's office for another class, then she'd get more homework . . .  She was beginning to think that she was never going to be able to sleep again.

The common room appeared deserted, but as soon as her foot hit the first step of the stairs, she heard a muffled snore from behind her.  She turned around and saw Harry slumped in a chair, asleep, in front of the fire.  Hermione considered leaving him there, not wanting a confrontation, but didn't have the heart to do it.  He would be ridiculed horribly if he was found sleeping there in the morning.  

She turned back and walked over to Harry, shaking him gently to wake him up.  He jolted, and looked around in confusion.  Finally, his eyes rested on her and he relaxed.  "Oh, it's you," he said in a sleepy voice.

"Get up, it's past midnight," Hermione whispered.

"Then shouldn't I be sleeping, not waking up?" Harry asked, grinning.  She found it impossible to even attempt a smile back.  Harry sobered quickly.  "Really, I fell asleep down here because I was waiting for you.  I wanted to talk to you, but you never got back."

"I just did," she said bitterly.  "Snape is the single most horrible man on the face of the earth.  He kept me an extra three hours so he could have more time to insult and chastise me while I organized his disarranged shelves, and there was nothing I could do about it."

Harry nodded empathetically.  "Figures.  So, since I waited so long I fell asleep in a chair, can we talk?"

Hermione had known this moment would come—she'd just hoped she could delay it for longer than she had.  She nodded, knowing it would do no good to postpone it until the morning.  "What about?" she asked, though she already knew.

"The way you've been acting," Harry said.  "I mean, you've been acting more distant than Ron and Ginny lately.  You hardly talk, you hardly eat, you look like you haven't slept at all.  You locked yourself in your dorm over the weekend.  You aren't doing your homework.  You sneak off at past the time the rules state to go to some mysterious place.  What's going on?  You weren't this way last week.  Just the past four days, since Saturday.  Are you okay?  Has something happened?  And, by the way, I haven't bought a single lie you've told me, including the "family problems" lie.  Just tell me the truth, Hermione.  I want to help."

Hermione nodded, not looking at him.  "Okay.  Something is wrong, Harry.  Something's seriously wrong.  My life has been turned upside down.  But I cannot tell you why, or what is going on.  It would endanger your life, mine, and thousands of other lives as well."

Harry stared at her.  "I certainly wasn't expecting that," he said, surprised.  "But you're telling the truth, I can tell."

"Please, Harry, don't tell _anyone_, including Ron, that I've said anything.  Don't alert them that anything is wrong, and don't dig deeper to find out what is going on.  I'm begging you, please.  You'd understand and agree to do it if you knew, but I can't tell you."

Harry looked uncertain.  "I'll promise if you tell me this:  Have you been hurt, are you being hurt, or are you going to be hurt?  If you answer yes to any of those questions, I'm not sure I can promise."

"No to the first two, and maybe to the last.  There's a possibilty that I could be hurt, even killed.  About equal to the possibilty that you could be hurt or killed."

Harry bit his lip, understanding instantaneously the underlying message in her words.  "This has to do with Voldemort?"

Hermione sighed, too tired to care that he was basically figuring out everything.  Harry was simply too perceptive, she couldn't hide things from him.  "Yes.  I should not have even told you that."

Harry nodded.  "Okay, I won't tell anyone.  I have no idea what's going on, but I won't look for anymore clues and I won't pry.  But promise you'll tell me if something happens to you?  Promise you'll let me know?"

"I promise," she assured him.  "Thank you."  

He hugged her, and she was very glad to know that even if he wasn't able to learn the whole truth, he knew enough to help her.  The two headed back upstairs together, and Hermione felt for the first time as though maybe, with the help of Hagrid and Harry, she could actually get through this living hell and make it out to the other side.

She had no idea how bad things were going to get.

****************

"So it's true?  Dumbledore has made up a Key?"

"Yes."

"And the names you just gave me are the names of the members?"

"Yes."

"This is so far beyond my wildest imaginings.  We can rip their resistance apart and take over so quickly and easily.  It was such a risk to make a Key.  What was Dumbledore thinking?  The man's getting old, not as sharp, not as smart.  That shows in this decision."

"So what will we do with this information?  Obviously we'll use it to destroy them, but how?"

"We could just kill the members.  Easy enough.  But I'd rather have more fun with it.  Destroy them not only by invasion, being conquered, and the deaths of the Key members, but by betrayal too.  Make one of the four betray them, instead of us.  It will rip them apart.  Destroy their trust.  You know them all better than I.  Choose one, the one that would never betray the Light side, as well as one whose strong and powerful, so once the betrayal occurs, we can keep them with us."

"Hermione Granger."

"That Mudblood girl?  The friend of Harry Potter?"

"Yes, sir."

"She's in Gryffindor as well.  Perfect.  We can destroy her life, and use her to destroy the lives of her friends and family.  And a friend of Harry Potter is even more perfect.  She can get close to the boy, get information."

"She'll never go over.  I've tried being nice to her lately to throw suspicion off of me, but it's not working.  Doesn't matter how much we beat her or torture her.  She'll die before she changes sides."

"I'm not entirely sure.  Did not you tell me she could be weak at times?  If we hurt her enough, along with some threats, she'd change."

"But if we hurt her _that _much, then it would never be conceivable for her to go to Hogwarts with her injuries.  Maybe this isn't the best plan . . ."

"Don't disagree with me—it would be a fatal mistake.  It is not as though the girl has any personal connection to you.  Besides, you misunderstand me.  We will not take her any time soon.  We shall wait for Christmas holidays, and trick everyone into thinking they know where she is.  For real, she will be with us.  We will torture her until she agrees to join us.  We will use means to insure that she sticks to that agreement.  And once she agrees, we will heal her so that she is not hurt so badly she cannot go back."

"And if she doesn't change sides?"

"She dies.  And that will destroy the resistance.  Then we'll attack, and take the Light side down with them."

"But . . ."

"No buts.  We will do this.  And the Master will agree, I am sure.  If you wish to disagree, you can die as well."

"I just meant that it would be such a waste to kill her.  She could still be useful under Imperius control."

"No.  We cannot have someone working for us who is not really with us.  She joins us willingly—or she dies."

"Yes, sir."


	6. Destiny's Betrayal

::: 6 ::: _Destiny's Betrayal___ "I was young and full of dreams, 

_My whole life in front of me._

_Things aren't always what they seem—_

_Some dreams don't come true."_

_--Hart Rouge_

"Christmas is upon us.  The holidays for Hogwarts will be starting in merely a few days."

"Are you saying that it's time, Master?"

"Yes.  Put the plan into motion."

"Would you like to tell him, or should I?"

"You do it.  It will be easier that way, and less dangerous for me.  Tell him that I don't care what he has to do.  Just tell him to bring Hermione Granger to me—alive.  If he wants to harm her otherwise, I don't care.  As long as she is alive when she arrives, it is fine."

"Yes, Master.  I will tell him immediately."

"I hope he is up to this.  I hope that we can trust him not to betray us.  Did not you tell me he didn't like this idea to begin with?  And the event with the Sorting Hat does not encourage me."

"He'll do it, Master.  He'll do whatever I tell him to do.  That's been taught to him.  Even if he does not like our plan, he will follow it."

"He had better.  For if he does not, or the Granger girl escapes somehow, it will be his head I take—as well as yours.  I hope you understand that."

"I do, sir.  And so does he."

"Good.  Then go.  I have no more time to waste.  Our moment is nearly here."

*************

Months passed by, and Hermione, while still angry at having her decisions in life taken away from her, began to adjust.  For at least five weeks, she had fallen behind in her classes, and had struggled to keep up her façade of a normal life.  However, she gradually became used to it all, and was even able to act like her old self around Harry and Ron.  Ron, too, was becoming more talkative and pleasant, though he still was hurting for his brother—Ginny was still more public about her grief, but she too was healing, very slowly.  Harry had taken her words for the truth that night, and he had not pressured her into telling him anything else, nor had he tried to spy on her and find out that way.  She knew he'd never tell anyone, so that did not worry her.  

The Key classes were becoming easier to stand.  Jenna, once she'd been around them for a week or two, began to open up more, and they could all tell why she'd been picked as the perfect Ravenclaw.  For a first year, she was exceptionally intelligent—reminding Hermione of herself at that age—and had a witty sense of humor, though she rarely chose to use it.  Justin had always been pretty comfortable around them all, so he didn't have much adjusting to do.  Hermione grew to like Jenna and Justin, and they became friends.  She had known Justin for years, but had never _really_ known him.  Now that she did, she considered him a good friend.  Malfoy, however, had made no changes.  Hermione still was not able to cooperate with him, nor was he willing to do so with her.  Justin tried to get along with him, but Draco refused to be associated with him.  Jenna was frightened of him, and neither bothered trying to bond.  Hermione was still forced to sit beside Malfoy every Potions lesson, but gradually the two learned to ignore each other and pretend the other did not exist.

No matter what McGonagall and Dumbledore did, they couldn't stop Malfoy from staying on the outside deliberately.  Once, Hermione had even overheard McGonagall talking to the headmaster, saying that she thought "Miss Granger may have been right about him all along."  Not even Dumbledore seemed that optimistic about Draco and anyone else in The Key forming any type of positive bond.

On the second to last day before Christmas holidays, The Key gathered in Dumbledore's office, which had become as familiar to them as any of the Hogwarts classrooms.  McGonagall was speaking to them about the holidays.

"For Christmas, as always, you may remain here if you wish.  It would, in fact, most likely be safer for you.  Even if you all choose to stay, this class will be cancelled during holidays, just like all the rest.  You can also go home if you wish.  Please do not feel pressured into remaining here.  As you all have refrained signing one of the forms saying whether you will stay or go, you may sign the form here.  I will pass it around."

Draco received the sheet first, and printed his name clearly under the heading, _Remain_ _at_ _Hogwarts_.  He gave the sheet to Hermione, who also signed up to stay at Hogwarts. She passed it to Justin, who signed up to go home, and Jenna did the same.  

After this all was done, McGonagall took the sheet back, not even glancing at it, then set it down behind her on Dumbledore's desk.  The rest of the lesson was spent listening to her lecture about current events on the war, which was a common occurrance during this class.  Voldemort had recently sent some of his people after the family members of Cornelius Fudge, sending them into hiding.  There had been a few more attacks since he'd come back, but none nearly as devastating as the attack on the Ministry conference.  Most people were being sure to avoid great gatherings like that, and the Minister of Magic was ordering most that were planned to be stopped, not wanting another massacre.

Finally, class ended, and the kids stood up to leave.  Dumbledore had not been present during this class, as he usually was not.  McGonagall followed them out, and the five of them all headed back down to the main school halls.  Jenna, Justin, and Hermione all walked down the corridor they usually took back to the common rooms.  Draco always took the one in the other direction, alone, and he did so as always tonight.  McGonagall followed the other three.

Draco walked some, then turned back and stared after the four as they grew steadily further away.  He sighed.  He hated his life, hated what his life required him to do.  But he had no way out of it.  

*************

Later that night, a dark figure dressed in all black crept up the deserted corridor, passing  the hospital wing and classrooms, finally stopping in front of the large gargoyle leading to Dumbledore's office.

"Butterbeer," the figure hissed, and the gargoyle moved aside, allowing the figure to quickly enter.  The figure darted up the stairs, and slipped quietly into the darkened office.  Dumbledore was nowhere to be seen, as he had a room of his own, up three floors, where he'd be at this time of night.  The figure went quickly to the desk, and scanned the papers, finally finding what it was looking for.  It pulled out it's wand and hissed, "_Removiate_!"  The name "Hermione Granger," which was written neatly in the _Remain_ _at_ _Hogwarts_ side, disappeared, then reappeared below Jenna's name on the _Return_ _home_ list.  The figure tucked its wand away, put the paper down, and left the office, knowing no one would ever know that it had been there.

*************

The next day, Hermione, Harry, and Ron had all their classes, but they paid hardly any attention to what went on.  Hermione had never been more anxious for vacation. She wanted desperately to return to her parents over the holidays, but didn't want to go in case it could put them in danger.  She'd only written them a few letters over the past few months, just enough so that they didn't suspect something was wrong.  She kept her letters as brief as possible, though it was a struggle every time not to spill out everything that had happened to her.  All her life, her parents had been there to support her and help her when things became difficult.  Things had never been more difficult than they were right then, yet she could not even tell them something was the matter.  It hurt her deeply to know that.  The only thing that kept her from telling them was her love for them—she didn't want them to be hurt because she couldn't handle her own problems.

At least Harry had some idea that her life was difficult, and could help her at least subtley.  A lot of times during the past few months, the knowledge that Harry and Hagrid were there for her was the only thing that kept her going.  

It would be a relief when the holidays finally arrived.  Classes would end, and she would have a break from homework, classmates, and training classes with Malfoy.  It would be a very welcome break.

Though she did have assignments to do over break, she had two weeks to do them in, instead of the usual one night to do two days' worth of homework.  She knew that tomorrow the students would be leaving bright and early for the Hogwarts Express home, and the castle would become quiet and deserted, but it was left with a feeling of warmth and friendliness, rather than one of depression and emptiness as one would expect.  For the first time in as long as Hermione could remember, she actually got a good, peaceful night's sleep.  It would be one of her last.

Her intentions had been to sleep in as late as she was allowed the next day, but unfortunately, she was aroused from her sleep by Lavender dropping her trunk heavily on the dormitory floor, jolting Hermione unhappily from her sleep.  While she tried to go back to sleep, the noise of students packing was too much for her to fight off.  She decided she would take a walk out on the grounds, which were overseen by a canopy of gray clouds that told of snow to come.  

She shrugged into some comfortable Muggle clothes and left the quickly emptying common room.  Only the stragglers were left tugging trunks and belongings now.  She didn't see Harry or Ron, and figured that they had been two of the luckier students that had not been awakened.  She warmed her hands by the fire, then left the portrait hole, ignoring the Fat Lady's angry call of, "You stragglers need to keep up!  I may be simply a portait, but I need _my _beauty rest too!"

The Great Hall was filled with only a few students and Professor Vector, who was supervising.  It was far too early for anyone to be up—the only reason there was even breakfast on the table was because the kids leaving had decided to grab breakfast on the way out.  By this time, though, only a few of the students were running out the door, and two or three sat yawning at tables, most likely awoken by the noise, like herself.  She grabbed a piece of toast, then headed out onto the grounds, smiling at Professor Vector as she left.  

The second she stepped outside, the icy chill of the wind and the bitter bite of the air hit her.  She shivered and wished she'd brought her cloak.  Looking at the darkening sky, she knew that snow would be hitting any time now.  Shaking, but not wanting to go back into the castle, she spotted Hagrid's hut and smiled.  She could stop by there and talk with him.  He would have been awakened by the students leaving, too.

She was about halfway there when she heard her name shouted from the side.  She stopped and turned to see Draco Malfoy running at her.  He looked panicked, and he was gasping.  His lip was fat, and he had blood streaming from his nose.  It looked as though he had the beginnings of a black eye.  He reached her, and rested his palms on his knees apparently struggling for breath.    
  


"What is wrong with you?" Hermione asked, not caring about his apparent panic and injuries.  "One of the upsides to Christmas holidays is that I _don't_ have to deal with you.  Please, don't crush that happy thought so soon."

He straigtened and glared at her.  "Shut up, Granger, now isn't the time.  I need help."

"With what?" she asked suspiciously.

"Justin," he said, appearing truly frightened.  "I was walking around out on the grounds, as I like to do in the early mornings before everyone's around, and I was watching the other kids walk toward Hogwarts station.  Justin sort of ran into me—literally.  I yelled at him, he yelled at me, and he ended up punching me."

"I can see why," Hermione said dryly.  "I'll be sure to congratulate him next time I see him."

He scowled.  "Will you listen?  I hit him back and we wound up in a fight, as you can tell by the way I look.

 "We were near the Forbidden Forest, and we sort of ended up in there, by the time our fight had ended.  Then this—this creature, this . . . I dunno, I think it was a werewolf, but I'm not sure . . . it attacked Justin.  He was on the ground, and the thing grabbed his leg and started pulling him.  I couldn't do anything.  You've got to help me!"

"Get a teacher," Hermione said, unnerved and worried.  She turned and starting to head back to the school.  

"No!" Draco said, catching her arm.  "It'll take too long.  You know the way teachers are.  If we have any chance of finding him alive, we've got to go—now.  I was hoping I'd find someone else left on the grounds, and I'm glad I did.  Come with me.  You've got to trust me on this, though I know that can't be easy for you.  If Justin dies, the resistance is gone.  If you don't want to do this for me, and you don't want to for Justin, at least do it for the Light side."

"I do care about Justin, thanks.  But I don't trust you, and I don't see why doing what's right for the Light side suddenly matters to you, Death Eater.  However, I'll help you, because Justin is my friend.  Show me the way."

Draco nodded and the two ran to where Justin had apparently disappeared.  When they reached the edge of the forest, Hermione paused, a feeling of apprehension and distrust hitting her as strong as a tidal wave.  

"What?" Draco demanded.  "Do you want him dead?  Hurry up!"

"I don't like this.  I haven't got a good feeling," Hermione said, shaking her head and staring at the dark and formidable trees looming over her like evil shadows.  

"Come on. Like you haven't been in the forest a thousand times with Potter and Weasley," he said scornfully.

"It's different with Harry and Ron," she shot back.  "I know I can trust them.  I know they wouldn't attack me in there.  I know that they wouldn't run off and leave me if we come across some horrible danger.  You I feel the opposite about."

"Fine.  Stay.  I'll save Justin.  Some comraderie we have," he snarled, and dashed into the forest.

Hermione watched him, then looked back at the castle.  Finally, she sighed and ran after Draco.  The feeling that she was making a horrible mistake still weighed heavily upon her, but she had to help Justin, if he was in trouble.  The second she stepped into the forest, the early morning seemed to darken to twilight.  The thick canopy of trees overhead blocked out virtually all light, and the shadows around her seemed to have a life of their own, swaying with the trees in the wind.

"Malfoy!" she called.  She had no answer, but a boy's scream echoed to her ears from far ahead.  Her heart leaped into her throat, but she didn't immediately rush to the source of the sound.  The feeling that something was wrong was as real and thick as a wall standing in front of her, a wall with a repelling force, telling her to go back.  She had always trusted her instincts, and they'd always led her right.  They were telling her something was wrong—but she knew that.  Justin was in trouble; the entire Light side was in danger.  _That_ was wrong.  And she had to help them.

Ignoring the feeling in her heart, she ran ahead, listening for the scream to come again, which it did, from closer this time.  She knew she was getting nearer.  Suddenly, a figure moved out from behind the tree she'd just passed.  The word, "_Stupefy_!" radiated through the eternal night, and Hermione felt herself becoming weak and dizzy.

As she sank to her knees, and her mind became fuzzy, she heard the apologetic words of a boy say, "Sorry, Hermione.  I didn't want it to be this way, honest, I didn't.  Maybe someday you'll understand why . . ."

And then blackness claimed her.


	7. Destiny's Prisoner

::: 7 :::

_Destiny's Prisoner_

__

"_I still remember the sun,_

_Always warm on my back._

_Somehow it seems colder now."_

_--Evanescence_

Hermione felt herself rising up slowly from the depths of unconsciousness, but she felt numb all over.  She couldn't seem to think at all and all she knew was pain.  Her pain consisted of a throbbing skull and aches just about everywhere else.  As she grew gradually more aware, more of her senses returned to her and she was able to more easily assess her surroundings without her eyes.  She was lying in a very uncomfortable position on what felt to be an icy stone floor.  She was freezing, and a chilled breeze would sweep over her every now and then, worsening the damp cold.  No noise came from anywhere around her.

Finally, she regained enough control over herself to open her eyes.  She didn't dare move, for fear of worsening the pain, but stared up at the concrete ceiling above her.  She turned her head, and the throbbing pain became so fierce that blackness welled up before her eyes, threatening to send her back into unconsciousness.  She fought it off, biting her lip to try and even out the pain.  Her vision cleared and she realized she was in something that looked remarkably like a Muggle prison cell.  For a few panicked moments she wondered if she was somehow in Azkaban, but quickly banished that thought.  Though she was having trouble remembering how she'd gotten there, she still had enough sense to realize that she, a fifteen-year-old Hogwarts student that had done nothing wrong, would not be taken to Azkaban.  Someone would stop the person trying to put her there.  However, that thought just served to fuel her fear further.  If she wasn't in Azkaban, where was she?

She steeled her nerves and sat up.  She cried out in pain and felt tears well up in her eyes.  Pain was shooting throughout her body.  One of her sleeves was rolled up, and she could see bruises and blood on it.  She winced as she realized that whoever had brought her here had also beaten her.  She was simply glad she hadn't been awake for the experience.  She knew though, that if they'd hurt her once, they were capable of doing it again—while she was awake.  Studying her arm closer, she noticed a small prick of blood in the crook of the elbow.  She'd been injected with something, and that knowledge frightened her.  It could have been anything—it could have been Veritaserum!

She forced herself to use logic.  The fact that she'd been kidnapped and she was a member of The Key was no coincidence.  Someone had betrayed her—and if they'd betrayed her, they'd betrayed all the members.  They'd have no use for Veritaserum.  That realization left her with another question, though: Who had betrayed her?  One word screamed through her head—_Malfoy!_

The thought of Malfoy brought back her memories of her kidnapping.  Malfoy had tricked her into following him into the forest, then he'd attacked her.  He'd probably been the one who had beat her, too.  Fierce anger roared to life inside her.  How dare he?  He had betrayed them all, and kidnapped her.  Who knew what he planned to do with her?  She wanted to kill him more than she ever had in her entire life.  Unfortunately, she couldn't even move.  

_Harry and Ron must know something's wrong,_ she reasoned with herself.  _I must have been gone for several hours by now.  I told them I was staying at Hogwarts.  All my stuff is still in my dorm.  They'll realize something.  They've got to._

This thought made her feel, oddly enough, even more alone.  She'd have thought the fact that Harry and Ron were looking for her would make her feel more hopeful, but instead, it made her feel more hopeless.  Malfoy was an evil jerk, but he was smart.  He'd have found a way to make Harry and Ron think she was with her parents, or somewhere else.  And her parents thought she was at Hogwarts.  No one knew where she was, not even her.  The only thing she knew about her location was that she was in a stone prison cell that was freezing, and she'd been beaten so badly she could barely move.  Of course, she knew the cold was making the injuries hurt worse, but that was no consolation to her.  She wanted to cry, but wouldn't allow herself to in case someone was watching.  The Death Eater that had kidnapped her would not get that satisfaction.  If she had to be a prisoner, she would be a strong and uncooperative prisoner.

But being strong was a hard thing to do when you didn't know where you were, who had captured you and what they intended to do with you.  And Hermione didn't know anything.

****************

"Hermione!  Open up already!"

"Can't sleep all day, you know!"

No answer came from Hermione's room, and Harry and Ron, who stood outside the room shouting, were beginning to get worried.  They'd been pounding on her door for a while now.  No one could sleep through all the noise they were making unless they'd cast a Silencing Spell around themselves.  Harry suggested this to Ron.

Ron shrugged.  "Could be.  The people leaving were pretty noisy this morning.  She'd be one to know how to do that.  She's probably in there, sleeping the morning away, completely oblivious to us shouting our voices hoarse out here.  Let's just go in already."

Harry hesitated.  "What if someone else is in there?  Or she's indecent or something?"

Ron rolled his eyes.  "Stop the what-if game, Harry.  Just go in."

"Okay, but . . . quietly," Harry said hesitantly.

"Harry, if someone other than Hermione was in there, they'd have heard us shouting.  A little thing like a creaky door will not wake them."

Harry nodded, realizing Ron had a point, and opened the door.  He made sure to keep his eyes lowered in case his second reason for not barging in was correct.  Ron did no such thing, and a moment later cried in an annoyed voice, "She's not even here!"

Harry looked up, and glanced around.  Four of the five beds were completely barren of anything—the other girls had taken all their stuff home with them for the holidays.  Hermione's bed still had a considerable amount of things around it, all neatly organized, but Hermione was conspicuously absent.

"Down at breakfast, perhaps?" Harry suggested.

"Maybe," Ron said, shrugging.  "Can't believe we nearly lost our voices trying to get the attention of an empty dormitory."

"Let's go look in the Great Hall," Harry suggested.  "I'm hungry anyway, and could do with some food."

Hermione, however, wasn't there, either.  There were only a few kids there, but Hermione was not among them.  Harry and Ron grabbed a couple of biscuits and Harry ate them quickly, but he didn't taste them.  Harry was worried for Hermione.  He knew from their conversation a few months ago that she was involved in something dangerous, and he wondered if something had happened to her.  He couldn't tell Ron his suspicions, though, so he was forced to wait in agony for Ron to slowly and contentedly eat his biscuits.

"Are you done?" Harry finally snapped.

Ron scowled.  "What's wrong with you, Harry?  I'm just eating.  We've been here, what, ten minutes?"

Harry sighed.  "Sorry.  Just . . . worried about Hermione, I guess."

"Why?" Ron asked.  "She's around here somewhere.  Maybe down at Hagrid's, or talking to a teacher, or—as if this would be a surprise—in the library doing her homework."  

Harry nodded.  "Yeah, you're probably right," Harry agreed, but the nervous feeling within him did not ease.

Ron studied him.  "You seem to be worried about her a lot lately.  Anything you want to tell me?"

Harry jolted.  Could Ron suspect something?  Had he possibly overheard one of his private conversations with her?  He could trust Ron, but if Hermione had told him not even to tell Ron, there had to be a reason.  "What . . . what are you talking about?" he asked, doing a terrible job of covering his surprise.  "Me?  Worried about her?  Why would I be worried about her?"  Instantly, he wanted to take back his last few sentences.

Ron grinned playfully.  "I'm not dense, you know.  I notice things.  And to be perfectly honest, it's really pretty obvious." 

Harry's heart leaped into his throat, and he sighed dejectedly, waiting for the next words to come out of Ron's mouth.  

"You like her, don't you?"

Harry was once again surprised, and looked up.  He was glad Ron knew nothing of his secret with Hermione—not that it was really his secret anyway, as he didn't know much of anything—but he felt his cheeks begin to redden.  "What gives you that idea?" Harry mumbled, poking at his eggs.

Ron laughed.  "Your reaction just then, among so many other things.  Come on Harry, admit it.  I actually think the two of you would make a pretty good-looking couple.  I'm your best friend—don't lie to me."

He perked.  "You think Hermione and I would be good together?" he asked.  He'd liked her since the end of last year, but had not had the guts to admit it to anyone yet—let alone her.

Ron nodded seriously.  "Yeah.  Her and Krum broke up, you know.  This summer.  No details, I barely managed to get that out of her before she started yelling at me."

"When did you find that out?  How did you possibly make her tell you?"

Ron shook his head and rolled his eyes.  "Wasn't easy, trust me.  Found out a couple of weeks ago, when I heard her talking about it to Ginny—who, by the way, would tell me nothing either."

Harry hesitated before asking his next question.  "Do you . . . think that she likes me?"

Ron seemed to be thinking.  "Dunno.  She's pretty good at concealing those things, but I think she might.  It's not as obvious as the way you act, though."

"Great," Harry muttered.  "A maybe.  And if I've been that obvious, do you think she's noticed?"

Ron nodded again.  "Oh, yeah.  Wouldn't take a genius to figure it out, Harry, and Hermione _is_ a genius.  Next time you see her, I'd suggest you tell her.  Letting her figure it out for herself isn't the best way."

Harry nodded, slowly at first, and then faster.  "Yeah.  You're right.  I think I'm going to go find her.  You want to come?"

Ron shook his head.  "Nope.  Do it on your own.  Do you really think it's going to be even remotely romantic if I'm hanging around?  Check the library and Hagrid's.  If she's not at one of those places, then I don't know where she is.  Wait for her up in Gryffindor Tower."

"Oh, boy.  You might as well tag along then, because it can't get any _less_ romantic than the library and Hagrid's hut."

"Go on!" Ron said, laughing.  "Besides, I'm sure that to Hermione, the library is a _very_ romantic place."

Harry grinned and set off, actually feeling hopeful about the subject he'd been trying to avoid all year.  He stopped at the library, but it was empty, and Madame Pince told him briskly that Hermione had not been in there all day.  Next, Harry headed back down to Hagrid's, feeling that uncomforting feeling of impending danger once more.  On his way down, he saw Ron coming out from breakfast in the Great Hall.  Ron flashed him an encouraging thumbs-up sign, but Harry didn't really take notice.  

When he reached Hagrid's, he got negative results once more.  Hagrid was warm and inviting to him, but Hermione was not there, and he did not know where she was.

"Nope, 'fraid I can' tell yeh I have," he said when Harry asked him if he'd seen Hermione, shrugging helplessly.  "Sorry.  I saw her walkin' across the grounds early this mornin', an' figured she was headin' down ter me hut, but I got distracted when Fang knocked over his water bowl, an' when I looked again, she was gone.  Dunno where she wen' to.  She wasn' leavin' fer home, was she?"

"No," Harry said, sighing in disappointment.

"Yeh need ter talk ter her really bad fer some reason, Harry?" Hagrid asked.  "I could help yeh look if yeh wanted me ter."

"I wanted to talk with her, but it can wait.  Thanks for the offer, though, Hagrid," Harry added.  "Do you think she went by the forest, or into Hogsmeade, for some reason?"

Hagrid thought about it.  "She coulda had time ter go inter the forest while I wasn' lookin', but I don' see why she would.  I was pretty certain you three liked ter steer clear o' there if it was possible.  Hermione in particular."

Harry nodded.  "Yeah, she does.  I don't know why she'd go in there either.  What about Hogsmeade?  Maybe she followed one of her friends to the train station there."

"Doesn' make much sense ter me," Hagrid said.  "I'd probably still have been able ter see her when I looked back out, an' even if I couldn' have, she'd have been back by now.  An' she was walkin' across the grounds by herself.  All the other stragglin' students were way in front o' her."

"Could she have made it all the way back to the castle and inside before you looked again?" Harry asked, knowing the answer wouldn't be one he liked.

Hagrid shook his head.  "Nope.  I was on'y lookin' away fer a few seconds, an' it takes time ter cross from the castle ter here.  She wouldn' have made it, even runnin'."  Hagrid watched Harry's disappointed reaction.  "I know yeh said yeh didn' need ter speak with her too badly, but yer sure actin' like yeh do.  Yeh seem worried abou' her.  Any special reason?"

"No, no reason," Harry said quickly.  Harry met Hagrid's eyes, and could see in them that Hagrid was getting worried too.  "Do you know something?" Harry asked suspiciously.

Hagrid went into a fake coughing fit.  "Know somethin' 'bout wha'?" Hagrid asked, bending down to pat Fang.

"Hagrid."

Hagrid looked up and this time, Harry could see the guilt in Hagrid's eyes, and realized that he, too, knew at least something about whatever was going on with Hermione.  "You don't know anything, do you?" Harry asked carefully, knowing Hagrid would agree with that, even though it would be a lie.

"No, don' even know wha' yer referrin' ter," Hagrid muttered, averting his eyes.

"Yeah," Harry said.  "I don't know anything either."  

Harry and Hagrid said nothing but both knew that they meant exactly the opposite of what they'd said.  

"Well, thanks anyway, Hagrid.  I'll go wait in Gryffindor," Harry said, turning toward the door.

"Yeah, I hope yeh find her," Hagrid said.  "Send me an owl, or come down an' tell me when yeh do."

"Sure," Harry said, and then left.

On his way back to Gryffindor, he ran into Malfoy.  The Slytherin was sauntering along down the same flight of stairs Harry was going up.  They looked at each other, their eyes flashing with malice, and both unconsciously stopped.

"What are you doing, Potter?" Malfoy asked.  "Don't stop and stare at me.  I'm a Malfoy, in case you hadn't realized.  You do not stare at Malfoys."

Harry scowled.  "You're right.  You don't stare at them, you curse them," he shot back.  Something clicked in his head for the first time, and he looked at Malfoy with a new curiosity.  "Where's Hermione?" he asked slowly.

Now it was Draco's turn to scowl.  "What makes you think I know where the little Mudblood is?" he asked.

"Don't call her that!" Harry snapped, temper rising.  "And I can't find her anywhere.  You threatened her on the train.  The castle is basically deserted.  For some odd reason, I seem to think you _do_ know where she is."

"It's a big castle, Potter," Draco snarled.  "Don't go accusing innocent people.  You don't want a bad reputation.  Go look for Granger elsewhere, and leave me be."

Harry could see the lie in Draco's eyes, and grabbed him by the front of his robes, slamming him into the nearest wall, making Draco gasp for breath and yell, "You've lost it, Potter!"

"I don't think I have.  Where is she, Malfoy, or I can strangle you," Harry threatened, tightening his grip.  Even Draco could tell he was serious, Harry could see from the panic in his eyes.

"All right, all right, let go already!"

"Do you know or not?"

"Yes!" Malfoy gasped, his face very red from either anger, lack of air, or both.

"Then where is she?" Harry demanded.

"I can't tell you if I can't breathe!" 

Harry loosened his grip just enough to let Draco get some air.  "Tell me, or you're dead, Malfoy," Harry warned, the truth in his tone startling him.

"I heard McGonagall talking, okay?  She was saying to Dumbledore that Hermione left on a last minute emergency.  She got notice from home of something happening, and she had to leave.  Dumbledore told McGonagall that she left so fast she didn't even have time to get her stuff."

"Why didn't you tell me when I asked you, then?" Harry asked, still suspicious.

"Because I hate you, Potter, I thought you'd figured that out by now!  I was trying to bug you.  I didn't think you'd try to kill me, for God's sake."

Harry released Malfoy, and the Slytherin boy fell to his knees, gasping.  "I still don't totally trust you, so I'll tell you this—I was just threatening before, I wouldn't have killed you.  But if I find out you were lying to me, and you have hurt her at all, I'll bring to life those threats.  Now get out of here."

Malfoy picked himself up, trying to regain his dignity.  "Gladly," he muttered, with a sideways glance at Harry, then hurried off.

Harry was surprised at his own fury, and continued up the stairs at a slower pace than he'd been before his encounter with Malfoy.  He'd really lost it there.  What if Malfoy hadn't talked?  Would he really have followed through on his threats?  Not knowing the answer to that question scared him.

He went back up to Gryffindor Tower, and Ron asked him how it had gone.  "Couldn't find her," Harry said.  "Ran into Malfoy, and he said that he'd heard McGonagall talking to Dumbledore, and that they said Hermione had gone home at the last minute for some family emergency, and that she didn't even have time to grab her stuff."

"That's Malfoy's word," Ron said scornfully.  "I dunno about you, but I personally don't believe a word that comes out of his slimy mouth."

"Yeah, well, I think we can trust him this time," Harry said evasively, sitting down across from Ron in front of the fire.  _I hope_, he thought to himself.

"Why?" Ron asked.

"Well, because I sort of threatened to strangle him if he didn't tell me the truth.  And I might have had him slammed up against a wall cutting of his air flow."

Ron's mouth fell open, staring at Harry with awe his face.  He barked out a laugh.  "Are you serious?" he laughed.  "You pinned Malfoy to a wall and were strangling him?  That's way beyond cool—but totally unlike you.  Why not just use magic?"

Harry didn't want to admit to Ron that he had no idea why he'd done what he had.  He didn't want to tell his friend that he had lost it so completely that he doubted he'd have been able to regain himself if Malfoy hadn't told him what he'd wanted to know.  He was mildly frightened at his own fierce reaction, and he didn't want to spread that feeling to Ron.  So, instead, he lied.  "Well, I was raised with Muggles, and physical fighting was a part of that life, so it was more instinctive to attack that way, I guess."

Ron seemed to accept that answer, and nodded.  "Wonder what happened with Hermione's family?  I hope she's okay.  Want to send her an owl?"

Harry remembered he'd promised to send Hagrid an owl when he found out where Hermione was.  He shook his head.  "No.  Don't want to bother her or her parents if we're wrong.  I'm going to ask McGonagall about it."

Ron looked skeptical.  "I don't think she'll tell you anything, Harry," he warned.  "It is McGonagall."

"It's worth a try, right?"

Ron agreed, and so, when dinner rolled around, they headed down to the Great Hall, with a plan.  Hermione was not there.  Though Harry had held out no real hope that she would be, he felt disappointed anyway.  They were the only two staying in Gryffindor, so they sat alone at their table.  Malfoy was sitting alone at Slytherin, and there were four Hufflepuffs, and two Ravenclaws.  The high table was full.

Harry and Ron ate slowly, and waited for Professor McGonagall get up.  It seemed to take forever, but finally she did get up.  They waited for her to get out of the Great Hall, and into the normal corridors.  Ron waited at the table, letting Harry go ahead.  They'd agreed that McGonagall would be more likely to tell them if only one asked.

Harry ran out after her, and called her name.  McGonagall stopped and looked back, apparently confused.  Harry reached her, and stopped, starting immediately with an apology.  "Sorry to do that Professor, but I wanted to talk to you alone, and this was the only way I could think of—I didn't find you in your office earlier."

"Certainly," McGonagall said, still looking confused.  "What is it you wish to speak with me about, Mr. Potter?"

"Hermione," he said instantly.  "I was just wondering if she—"

McGonagall, who misunderstood him immediately, didn't even let him finish.  "Ah, I think I know what you are going to ask," she said uncomfortably.  "I know you are her friend, but I'm afraid I can tell you nothing.  It's not something to be disclosed, even to close friends.  I'm sorry, Mr. Potter, but that's all I can say, except to ask you not to bother her about it, either.  Just drop it.  Goodnight."

Harry sighed, and watched as she turned and walked away briskly.  "Yeah," he muttered.  "Goodnight."  He turned back to get Ron.  At least he knew something had to be going on with Hermione's family, he just wished he knew what it was.  

_Nothing to fret over,_ he told himself.  _I hope her family is all right, but at least I know that she's okay.  That's what matters.  I hope she has a nice Christmas, wherever she is._

**************

Hours had passed, and any hope of rescue Hermione had once had was gone.  No one knew where she was and she had a sinking feeling that no one was looking, either.  She'd searched her pockets, but her wand was gone.  She hadn't really expected them to let her keep it.

She had managed to drag herself up onto what was obviously considered the bed.  It was a stone platform with no blanket or pillow, attached to the wall by heavy, tight chains.  Other than that, the room was entirely barren.  There was a small bucket that contained half-frozen, algae-infested water that she knew she couldn't drink.  There was a second bucket, too, that she supposed had once contained food, but there was none in there now.  The door was wooden, with a small, barred window near the top.  When she'd gotten more used to moving around and fending off the pain, she had gotten up and looked out the window.  She couldn't see anything except for rows of more doors like hers, all along a corridor.  She could see no other person, though.  The icy chill came from barred windows at the very highest point on the wall over the cot, so high up that she couldn't see out of it even if she stood on her tiptoes on the cot.  The frigid winter air was unhampered, so it could blow in at any opportunity and always did, chilling her to the point of numbness.  

She sat quietly on the cot, inspecting her injuries, trying to determine what exactly had been done to her while she was passed out.  It looked mainly as though people had kicked and hit her.  She could feel dried blood under her sore nose, and her left eye was sensitive to the touch.  Her arms were coated in blue and black bruises, and a large bruise was already forming on the skin over her right ribs.  Her ankle had been twisted, and she had to limp on it,  but it wasn't broken—probably not even sprained all that seriously.  She supposed that most of the pain came from a head injury.  She could feel blood on her skull, under her hair and thought that she might have a concussion.  Pain also came from her stomach, which was growling loudly and harshly.  She'd eaten hardly any dinner the night before, and it had to be at least twenty-four hours later.  Even more than hungry, though, she was thirsty.

She glanced over at the icy bucket of stagnant water.  She knew it might make her sick, but if she didn't drink it she could get seriously dehydrated.  She doubted her captors intended to give her anymore water.  However, Hermione hesitated, her pride keeping her from drinking water that not even an animal would drink.  _They've kept me alive,_ she reminded herself.  _They must need me for something.  If they want me to _stay_ alive, they must give me water._

Hermione had no firm belief in this, though, and continued to glance at the water.  When fifteen more minutes passed, she didn't think she could stand her thirst any longer.  Even her salivatory glands seemed to be dry.  She stood and limped over to the bucket.  She fished through the cold water, trying not to keep her already icy hand in too long.  She grabbed pieces of ice, and studied them, looking for one that didn't appear to have too much algae trapped in it.  She finally found one, and broke it into a few pieces, putting one into her mouth.  It was a relief for her mouth not to be dry, but the moment she swallowed the first mouthful, she felt like throwing up.  She probably would have, too, if she'd had anything to throw up.  Fortunately, she didn't, and only ended up retching dryly and spitting out the ice.  After she'd recovered, she forced herself to put another piece of stagnant ice into her mouth.  It became easier, but as soon as she'd drank her fill, she limped back to the cot.

Her body felt better, but her mind was even more troubled.  She hated the fact that she'd just lost her dignity.  It was the only thing she had left in this stone prison.  She couldn't lose it, too, or she would have nothing.

She came back to her senses when she heard a key turning the lock of the door.  She leaped to her feet, standing tall, ready to face whoever it was.  She had a deep fear that when the door swung open, she would be face-to-face with Lord Voldemort himself.  That fear turned out to be irrational, but who was there wasn't much better.

Lucius Malfoy stood in the doorway, sneering at her.  She could easily see where Draco got his trademark facial expression from.  Lucius turned and closed the door, tucking the keys into his pocket.  "So," he said, studying her.

"So what?" Hermione replied, refusing to show any of her fear.

"For a Mudblood in a terribly dangerous and quite possibly deadly situation, you still have that pathetic Gryffindor pride," Lucius spat.  "My son was right—I can see why you'd be the choice for Gryffindor."

"And I can see why your son would be the choice for Slytherin," she shot back, not surprised at all that he knew about The Key.  "He's a sly traitor who would betray us all in an instant—and did."

"My son has learned well what I expect of him," Lucius said.  "I think—no, actually, I _know_—that I will be forced to teach you in the same manner.

"I have come to make an offer," he said, swiftly changing the subject with the unmistakable air of a businessman unwilling to be put-out.  "I would like to give you a place on the side of the Dark.  You would be a valuable asset."

Hermione stared at him, aghast.  That was the last thing she'd been expecting.  "You want me to join you?"

"That is what I said," he snapped impatiently.

"Then you're even more deluded than I'd originally assumed.  Surely the fact that I was chosen for Gryffindor gave you _some_ clue?"

His eyes narrowed.  "Oh, believe me, I realized what your answer would be.  However, I decided to ask you nicely the first time.  You can spend the night in this cell as you are, and we'll chat again in the morning, hmm?"

"You can't just leave me here!" she cried.  "I'll freeze to death!"

"All you have to do is say the word, dear little Mudblood," he said tauntingly.  "We'll be listening."

"If the word is, 'never,' I'll gladly say it," she snarled.

"So be it," Lucius replied, turning and walking from the cell without another word.  Hermione fell backwards onto the stone cot, staring at the now closed door.  If her only way out of there was to join the Dark side, then she would not get out of there.  She would die before she accepted Lucius Malfoy's offer.  

Then the fact that she was a member of The Key hit her.  She could not die, or Dark would take over.  She felt horrified.  She had only two options—join the Dark side, or let the Dark side overthrow the Light.  She knew she couldn't let Dark win, but she couldn't join them, either!  She felt tears burn in the corners of her eyes, and tried to fight them off.  Hermione could never let Dark win without a fight.  She also knew that to join the Dark side would be to ruin her life forever—but there seemed to be no other option.  For the first time in her entire life, she just wanted to die.

And strangely enough, this was the one time when there was absolutely no way that was possible. 


	8. Destiny's Sacrifice

::: 8 ::: _Destiny's Sacrifice_

"_While taking pleasure in the awful things you put me through,_

_You take away if I give in._

_My life, my pride, is broken."_

_--Linkin Park_

Morning seemed to come quickly for Hermione.  Despite the terrible conditions in which she was forced to survive the night, the long, frost-bitten and hungry hours seemed to slip away in a fashion more similar to minutes.  Apprehension kept her stomach knotted painfully throughout the night, and she jumped at every sound, as though expecting Lucius Malfoy to step in from the shadows.

She had decided upon a plan of action, though it was far from favorable, or even satisfactory.  If she were to be perfectly honest with herself, she wasn't even sure she would be able to follow it, or if she would end up taking the coward's way out.  Even the thought of the plan shook fear into her very bones.  It was the most frightening thing she'd ever considered doing—and she'd never been pressed harder against a wall that would not let her choose.  

Her plan was to escape.  Though it currently looked like a hopeless task, she decided it was her only option.  She would refuse Malfoy's offer, and try to survive whatever he did to her after that.  She had to buy herself time to search for an escape route.  If, in the end, she found no way out, she would agree to go over to the Dark side.  It was her worst nightmare—the worst nightmare of all truly good wizards, to have to serve Lord Voldemort.  Most wizards would die before doing it—but if she died, then she would be allowing him to take over, which was just as bad.  It was better to ruin her own life, and find a way to help the Light side succeed.  In the process, she was almost sure to die, but if she could stay alive long enough to find some way to help Dumbledore and The Key, then it would all be worth it.  She would not sacrifice her friends and family because she was too much of a coward to do what had to be done.  She would convince them she was loyal, then, when the opportunity arose, find a way to warn Dumbledore, or someone trustworthy.  Hermione knew that once she agreed to serve Voldemort, it was a lifetime commitment.  Unless someone could defeat him—and that would be a very difficult thing to do—she knew that she would be signing away her life and future to the Dark forces.  She had spent most of the night praying that it wouldn't come to that, praying she could find an escape route.  Unfortunately, she had had little time to search for a way out of her cell during the night, and what little searching she did revealed nothing.

She sat on her stone cot, her arms wrapped tightly around her legs in an effort to preserve her body heat, watching the shadows in the cell gradually shift with the rising of the sun.  She was starving, and for once, that was not an exaggeration.  She remembered all the days that she had skipped a meal, or even two, and had moaned about how hungry she was.  She recalled how Ron did it every day even when he stuffed himself at every meal.  None of them had any idea what hungry meant.  She knew that now.  True hunger was what she was currently feeling—shooting pains throughout your stomach that hurt so badly it made you keel over if you tried to get up.  The knowledge that she wouldn't be eating any time soon didn't help.

Lucius Malfoy would be coming soon.  That thought scared her, but not even the near-certain torture that would follow could scare her as much as what she would have to do if that didn't buy her the time to escape.  She remembered how much she'd ached for her parents right after she'd learned she was to be a member of The Key.  As she sat there, she knew that she'd never wanted her parents' help and advice and love as much as she did right then—and she also knew that they had never been further out of her reach. 

Hermione heard footsteps echoing in the corridor outside and felt her throat tighten, and her heart began to hammer inside her chest.  This time she did not jump up at Malfoy's arrival.  She was not a dog that would jump at his command, and she would make sure he knew that.  Let him feel disrespected, or angry, or whatever else he might end up feeling.  _Just screw him_, Hermione thought vindictively.

A moment later, the door to her cell opened, and Malfoy stepped in, closing the door behind him in a quiet and ominous way.  He watched her for a moment, then said in a low, intimidating voice, "Have you considered my offer?"

"No," Hermione replied without feeling in her tone.

"No to my offer, or no, you did not consider it?" Lucius asked.  She could sense his anger, and at the same time, his excitement.

"No to both," Hermione snapped.  "No, I'll never join you, and your offer was too ridiculous to waste my time considering."

Lucius uttered a fake, theatric sigh.  "Well, then, let's see how you feel after I beat some of that foolish Gryffindor pride and rebellion out of you."

Hermione leaped to her feet now, in a futile effort to protect herself.  "Do what you will," she hissed.  "But I will _never_ join you."

"We'll see."

************

Lucius Malfoy bowed in front of Lord Voldemort, frightened to say the words he'd come to say, but frightened not to, as well.  All you ever felt around Voldemort, whether you were friend or foe, was fear.

"Master," Lucius said in a sickly-sweet voice.  "I have news about the girl."

Before him, on a throne of flowing, sparkling black velvet, sat Voldemort.  His face was pasty and snake like, and his crimson coal eyes darted dangerously.  "Good or bad?" he asked in the quiet voice that had struck fear into thousands of hearts.

"Bad, I am afraid," Lucius began, wincing as he said it.  He paused, waiting for Voldemort's explosion.

It did not come.  "Explain," Voldemort ordered simply.

Lucius cleared his throat, silently thanking the higher powers for Voldemort's calm state of mind.  "My son was correct when he said she was stronger than we thought her for.  I gave her the whole night to think about it, and she still had the audacity to insult me and my offer to my face this morning.  When I started to beat her, she did not even cry, though she did ultimately pass out.  She will not be an easy one to convince, Master."

The explosion that had earlier been withheld was now unleashed.  "You are a sad excuse for a Dark supporter!" Voldemort roared, making Lucius wince and bow his head, nodding dully in the agreement Voldemort was seeking, hoping to avoid being subjected to the Cruciatus Curse—a favorite of the Dark Lord's.  "You give up so quickly?  She is a teenage girl—and a Mudblood no less!  You think she cannot be persuaded?  You tortured her once.  Do it again tomorrow.  If she still refuses to cooperate, I shall attempt it myself, and then we will begin threats."

Lucius nodded.  "Yes, Master.  I did not say I had given up—simply that she would be a challenge."

"You like challenges, do you not, Lucius?"

"Oh, yes, Master," he replied quickly, nodding vigorously.

"Good," Voldemort said.  "Speaking of your son, how is the boy holding his position at Hogwarts?  If he has let anything slip, then I will kill him personally."

"He will not let anything slip," Lucius assured.  "As I said before—Draco does not favor this plan, even though he was the one who targeted the girl in the first place, but he will abide by it.  He's had enough of the treatment the Granger girl is getting throughout his life to understand what will be done to him should he fail."

"And if he succeeds, he shall become a full-fledged Death Eater.  That should be motivation, if death is not strong enough," Voldemort commented.

Lucius nodded.  "Yes.  It is what he wants."  He knew he was stretching the truth on that reply.  Draco had not been particularly interested in becoming a Death Eater, recently—but he hadn't opposed, either.  

As Lucius stood there, he wondered how Draco was doing at covering his footsteps that very moment.

**************

Draco Malfoy sat on the steps in the front of Hogwarts castle, staring out at the frozen lake and silver-frost covered trees.  It was Christmas eve, and the setting around him was perfect for the day, with a faint, chilled breeze, and the tell-tale clouds of snow to come.  However, Draco held no Christmas joy in his heart—he never really had, if he were to be perfectly honest with himself.  Certainly, there may have been a Christmas or two when he'd felt the joy and love that touched everyone else, when he was three or four, but he could not remember them.  All he had ever known was pain and fear—year-round.  Christmas had never been a happy time for him.  Certainly, he'd gotten plenty of gifts, but he'd gotten none of what really was important—love.  He didn't think he'd ever felt that, but he didn't really care.  How could he miss something he'd never had or even thought about?  

This Christmas was worse than all the others combined, though.  He never felt guilt for anything.  He knew the apologetic and frightened feeling he would get whenever he did something really bad and was about to be hurt for it.  He knew the pride that he sometimes felt when he made another feel bad.  But just like a happy Christmas, he could not remember ever feeling guilty.  However, as he sat on the cold, icy steps, he realized that he was feeling it then.  Certainly, he supported Voldemort—he always had.  He'd been raised to worship the man.  He had also always hated Hermione Granger.  She was top of every class, teacher's pet, a Mudblood, Harry Potter's friend, and she'd made him look like a fool more than once in his Hogwarts career.  He'd felt excited at the opportunity to let her have what he felt all Mudbloods deserved, and even more excited that she would get it at the hands of his father.  He knew Lucius Malfoy from the victim's perspective, as well as from the observer's.  His father was one of the cruelest men alive.  If anyone was capable of making another wish they'd never been brought into this world, it would be him.  However, now that the deed had been done, and she was in his father's clutches, he was rethinking his decision.  

He knew the pain a beating could bring, had learned it from his father at a very early age.  But his father was always careful to only use such force when it was necessary, and even then not too badly, nothing Draco couldn't survive.  He'd never even had a bone broken accidentally.  However, Hermione was a prisoner.  The goal was to force her to join the Dark side, and he knew better than anyone how stubborn she could be.  She would not agree to go over.  And when she didn't, she would not get one of the mild punishment beatings Draco had grown up with—she would be tortured.  He'd seen his father torture people before, and he knew what he did to them.  Hermione could very easily be pushed to the brink of death, and they would keep her alive only to torture her more.  

He felt certain that he wouldn't have cared about this fact last year—or even at the beginning of this one.  He remembered his threat to her on the train, remembered how he'd basically told her he would do this.  Back then, he'd have wanted it to happen.  He was different now, at least subtly.  The change was so subtle not even he had noticed it until that instant.  He felt differently about Hermione now.  He didn't like her—definitely not.  He still detested her with all his heart.  But he'd learned, over the long, late lessons they had spent together in Dumbledore's stuffy office to respect her.  Respect was something he felt for very few people.  Not the teachers, not Dumbledore.  Not his friends—how could anyone respect Crabbe and Goyle, who both had IQ's similar to a piece of fruit?  The only people he respected were his father and Voldemort.  His mother was a weak coward, and though he loved her, he did not feel any respect toward her.  To add Hermione Granger, a Mudblood and his mortal enemy to that list was hard to do, but the truth was, he did respect her.  Though her Gryffindor pride sickened him at times, he knew that if he were to insult her, she would not hesitate to return the favor.  And while her courage and lack of fear towards him on the train had angered him before, he now recognized it as admirable.  Very few would dare to tell him to his face that they didn't feel any fear towards him.  Those who had the rare trait were worthy of respect.  

He felt guilty about sending her to Voldemort.  He'd have sent Justin or Jenna away in a second, and he would not have been sitting there with second thoughts.  And while Hermione was still high on his list of most-disliked Hogwarts students, it seemed a shame to allow her to be at the hands of his father, who would kill her, or, if she was lucky, beat away everything that made him respect her.  Draco knew that even if, by some lucky chance she survived, she would be emotionally destroyed for a long time.  Who knew?  People who had less strength might be damaged forever.

He knew, though, that there was no way he could intervene.  To do so would be to condemn himself.  He couldn't drop any hints to Potter or Weasley either, because it would ultimately have the same result.  And no matter how bad he felt, he would not put Hermione Granger before his own life.

Draco stood and turned to go back inside.  It was almost dinner, and he was hungry.  Besides that, he would not allow himself to dwell on Hermione any longer—guilt was not a feeling he liked.  And the longer he allowed it to dig at him, the more chance there was of him doing something stupid to rid himself of it.  

**********

Hermione lay curled in a ball on the floor of her cell.  Pain wracked her body, the likes of which she'd never felt before.  The pain she felt now made the pain she'd felt yesterday when she'd first woken up seem like pinprick.  She was numb to hunger cravings and cold, the other pain far outweighing it.  

Lucius had beaten her until she had passed out from the agony.  He'd kicked and hit her, and she knew that she was covered in bruises and bloods gashes.  He'd also used the Cruciatus Curse on her—more than once.  If she were to be honest with herself, she knew that it had been over three times, but she could not remember beyond that.  She'd done her best to blank it out, and had been successful, at least in that aspect.  There were a few other curses he had used too, all of which had been painful, though none anywhere near as bad as the Cruciatus.  She was sure at least one rib was cracked, and she was pretty certain that her arm was broken as well.

She had realized the flaw in her plan—how could she search for an escape when she couldn't even move?  She'd never felt more incompetent than she did right then.  She could barely breathe without causing shooting pain, let alone move all around her cell, searching diligently for some way out.  And the worst part was, she knew that if she could not search for an escape, which she knew she could not, she would have no choice but to agree to join the Dark side.  She could not take another torture session like the last.  She would not survive it, she knew, and if she did, that would be even worse.

She hardened her resolve.  Tomorrow, if—and most likely _when_—Lucius Malfoy came, she would agree to his terms.  She felt like a coward.  Harry wouldn't have given in so easily.  He'd have put up with it longer, would have fought back, and ignored the pain.  But it wasn't Harry that was here—it was her.  And it was her decision to make.  

She wasn't sure how long she laid there, sobbing, praying that she would slip once more into blessed unconsciousness.  All she knew was that she stayed conscious throughout it all, and that the sun was just beginning to rise when she heard a distant door slam shut, and the echo of footsteps.  Hermione felt relief and terror.  She wanted the pain to end, but she also wanted her freedom, and that was something she was going to soon be forced to give to Voldemort.  For the first time, it dawned on her that it was Christmas morning.  This thought made her feel even more helpless and alone, and she shoved it aside.

Malfoy entered her cell, his wand held at the ready.  He stared at her, lying helpless on the floor where he'd dropped her yesterday once she'd passed out.  Perhaps she wasn't as strong as he'd thought.

"Don't suppose you've changed your mind," he said calmly, drawing back his sleeves and raising his arm.  He did not even wait for her answer.  "Too much of a Gryffindor.  Let's get straight to it, then."

"No!" Hermione cried, real fear in her voice.  For the first time she wondered: what if he didn't listen?  What if he tortured her anyway?  Voldemort would not care, as long as she was alive.  "Please, no.  I can't take it anymore.  I'll join you, just stop."

He studied her.  "Given up, have you?  I knew it wouldn't take much to destroy your illusion of pride and goodness.  It never does."

Hermione shut her eyes, and turned her head toward the ground, feeling ashamed.  Even Malfoy knew she'd given up all her pride to say those words.  Did the whole world need to know?  "Do whatever you have to do.  Just don't hurt me anymore," she whispered.

"Gladly," he said.  "I'll need to take you to a nicer room—one where the nurse can do what she needs to do.  But I warn you—should you be lying, you will lose your life, and it will be by torture."

"I'm not," she said, tears of shame burning her eyes.

"You've been warned.  My master will speak with you, decide for himself, and then, depending on what has occurred, you will be healed or killed."  Lucius walked forward and Hermione tensed, frightened.

He lifted her up roughly, and pain shot throughout her body.  She screamed from how badly it hurt, but Malfoy did not even pause.  He left the cell, not bothering to lock the door behind him.  Hermione was in too much pain to take notice of where they were going or how they were getting there.  She didn't suppose it mattered.  She'd just as good as become a Death Eater.  

After walking up several flights of stairs, they came to a room that appeared unused and dusty.  The furniture and décor were all impersonal—anyone could live here, though Hermione supposed no one did.  He dropped her on a soft, white bed, causing more agony to overcome her, though not as bad as when he'd lifted her.  

"I'll get the Master," Lucius said.  "Do not even attempt escape, though I doubt you could in your present state."  He turned and left the room, closing the door behind him.  She didn't hear the key turn in the lock, so she supposed the door was open, but she didn't even try to get up.  She knew that they would kill her, and she probably wouldn't make it even halfway to the door before they came back.

So, she settled for lying on the bed, staring through her tears at the ceiling.  Though hunger was still quite present, and her pain had not lessened any, she was happy to be lying on something soft for once, and content to let the warmth of the room engulf her, rather than the frigid winter chill.

It didn't take long until the door was swinging open once more.  Malfoy walked in, looking tall and proud.  "There she is, Master," he said, pointing at Hermione.  

A moment later, a tall, cloaked man entered.  He had his hood pulled low over his face, but in a way, that scared her more.  Harry had seen him in his new resurrected form last year, but he hadn't told her or Ron what Voldemort had looked like.  They hadn't wanted to press, and had not asked.  Hermione felt herself go rigid in fear.  Her breathing quickened, and despite the fact that that made her ribs ache unbearably, she could not stop.  

Voldemort walked slowly to the side of her bed.  She stared up at him, too afraid to look away.  She felt as though she were in a trance.  He stopped next to her, and reached up to pull down his hood.  The sight that met her eyes made her gasp in fear.  She looked quickly away, finally breaking the trance, but not before she'd seen him.  His face was white as snow, and his eyes burned like flaming coals, causing quite the contrast.  He had slits for nostrils, and his face was, all-in-all, quite snake-like.  Lord Voldemort.

"Scared of me, Mudblood girl?" he asked in a low voice that made her heart pound even faster.  Voldemort was speaking to her.  Directly to her.  It was enough to scare most kids her age into a coma—it was enough to do that to most adults.  She could not bring herself to answer, her mouth as frozen as the rest of her.  "When I ask you a question, you answer," he warned.  "You answer, or you suffer."

"Yes," she finally managed to whisper.  "I'm scared."  She waited tensely, wondering what his reaction to her words would be.  

He nodded.  "Good.  It is foolish to not be afraid of me.  It does appear that Lucius has done a good job in persuading you to join us.  Do you want to be one of us?"

Hermione tried to make herself say yes, but could not force the word from her lips.  Lucius had not taken all her pride.  "No," she said honestly.  "But I'd sooner become one of you than suffer more torture."

Voldemort stared at her. "A wise answer," he acknowledged.  "Those who are wise know better than to lie to me.  Apparently you know at least that much.  Would you serve me in order to make your suffering end?"

Her voice trembling, still not looking at Voldemort, preferring to stare at the wall, she said, "Yes."

"Would you be willing to take the Dark Mark and become a Death Eater?  Would you be willing to return to Hogwarts, and help Lucius's son Draco betray all those you are currently faithful to?"

"Yes."  It was the hardest thing she'd ever had to say.

Voldemort nodded again.  "You are telling the truth," he said quietly.  "You were injected with a slow-acting but active dose of Veritaserum when you were brought here.  It does not wear off for three days.  You should still be under its influence, so you are telling me the truth.  You will be made one of us, then.  You will be under constant surveillance, so try nothing.  You will be expected to make reports alongside Draco every time asked.  If you lie—even once—or betray us, you will be killed instantly.  Do you understand?"

Hermione nodded, biting her lip to keep from crying again.  

"Then so be it," Voldemort said.  "Give me your left arm, and pull up your sleeve."

Hermione, grateful that it was her right that was broken, did as was instructed.  She pulled the sleeve up with her teeth, rather than using her other arm.  She winced at the mass of bruises covering it, then looked away.  Voldemort's cold fingers took her arm, and she almost jerked it away in horror, barely managing to stop herself in time.

She watched as he pulled his wand from his robes, and she knew what was coming-- the horrible moment when her life as the intelligent, good-hearted Gryffindor Hermione Granger would end and her life as a Dark supporter would begin.  The moment the Dark Mark would be placed on her arm.  She turned her face away again, feeling hot tears spilling over from her eyelids and onto her cheeks.

"_Priorie Inflamae Carthatua agciend bondos permantai_!"

It felt like fire had been set to her arm, and she screamed as the pain grew hotter and hotter on her skin, digging deeper and deeper until she could feel it in her bones.  Finally, the pain tapered off slowly, and then disappeared, leaving nothing but a faint burn where it had been.  

"It is done," Voldemort said calmly.  

Hermione did not want to look, but knew she had no choice.  She turned her head slowly and looked at her arm, into which was now burned the Dark Mark, the most horrid and frightening symbol known to wizard kind.  Her tears started again as she saw it.  Her life was Voldemort's now.  She served the Dark.  She'd made the wrong decision.  No torture was as bad as this.  If only she'd stuck it out longer . . .

Voldemort laughed at her horror.  "Merry Christmas, little Mudblood," he sang, and he and Malfoy both began to laugh cruelly, their voices mingling and filling the room.

The only voice that remained out of place was Hermione's, as she cried for everything she had lost to protect the side she was now forced to fight against.


	9. Destiny's Deception

::: 9 ::: _Destiny's Deception_

_"I'm alive, but I'm alone,_

_And part of me is fighting this,_

_But part of me is gone."_

_--Three Doors Down_

Hermione sat on the cot, caressing the disgusting section of skin on her upper left arm under her robes.  She couldn't bring herself to look at it.  She'd done that enough.  She hated it, and she hated herself, and could not make herself deepen that hatred.  

She was back in her stone prison, as she had been since Christmas day.  There were differences now, though.  She had blankets and food and water.  Though it was still cold, that was no longer the worst thing to her.  

After receiving the Dark Mark from Voldemort, she'd been healed by a nurse.  Though the woman had deliberately left many of her bruises and cuts that would inevitably scar as they healed the Muggle way, her arm, ribs, and other serious injuries had been taken care of.  She had a strong feeling that the only reason they had bothered to heal her at all was that she had to go back to Hogwarts and could not do so in the state she'd been in.  They'd put her back in the prison cell and she'd been there ever since.  She had not seen Malfoy or Voldemort—much to her relief—since that day, and only house elves would come in twice per day to change her food and water.

She hated being in the cell.  It gave her time to sit and think about everything, which wasn't something she wanted to do.  It seemed that taking on the Dark Mark had taken all the strength she had left, and she spent many hours in her cell, crying in terror and hatred, all her courage depleted.  She tried to keep her thoughts off the past as well as the future.  Remembering the good times with her parents, and Harry, Ron, and Hagrid made her hate herself even more for what she would inevitably be forced to do to them.  Harry, most of all.  Her first priority, before warning Dumbledore even, was to warn Harry.  Voldemort would kill him the instant he found him-- and Hermione would not allow that.  She knew that she might have been being selfish, but she couldn't bear to think of Harry going through what she had gone through and not surviving the ordeal.

Hermione lost track of days in her sorrow, and she did not know how many had passed.  Time no longer mattered to her, except for the wish that she could turn it all back.  It was not at all unusual for her to completely shut down for several hours.  One day, her mind had blanked as the sun was rising and the next time she became aware of herself, it was dusk.  She came to find that these were the most enjoyable times of her imprisonment.  Several times, she contemplated finding a way to kill herself, but she wouldn't allow it.  She had volunteered to take the Dark Mark to help the Light side.  Her death would destroy it.  She was not going to give up the Light side after all she'd done to protect it.

Finally, days later, a man came.  It was no one she knew and she was relieved for that.  He was tall, but that was all she could tell, as his face was shrouded by shadow, courtesy of the long hood he wore.  He dropped an envelope onto her cot, which she stared at numbly.  

Then, he spoke.  "Tomorrow, when you return to Hogwarts, you are to follow those instructions.  Read them carefully, your life depends upon it.  Later tonight, the Master will call for you to come to his chamber.  He will perform a spell on you so that you cannot betray him."  The man said no more and turned away, leaving her cell.

She stared after him, at the door swinging shut.  All her breath had caught in her throat, and she felt crestfallen.  If Voldemort was going to put an anti-betrayal spell on her, she was doomed.  She would not be able to warn Dumbledore, Harry, or anyone else.  All she had done was in vain, for she still could not protect the people she loved.  And now two members of The Key were traitors.  Therefore, whatever protection—if any—the Light side had left, it was incredibly weak. She forced the thoughts from her mind, allowing denial to take over completely.  She'd always been good about suspending disbelief, but she'd had to do it too many times.  Denial became a haven for her and she convinced herself that the man had gotten the wrong instructions—he had to have.  

With a trembling hand, she reached out and slowly picked up the manila envelope the man had dropped beside her.  She spent the next hour reading the contents, which only served depress her even further.  Her instructions were to do what Draco had done.  She would continue to go on with normal life, but would try to get as much useful information as possible.  Useful information to them consisted of anything about The Key, secret passages into the school, weaknesses, general data on teachers and staff, and anything about Harry Potter.  She would be expected to make weekly reports.  

Hermione spent her afternoon rereading the contents of the envelope time after time.  She played mental word games with the words on the pages, and sometimes just stared blankly at them.  She didn't care what they said, and did not want to read them again, but even less did she want to think about what a fool she had been to think that she could become a Death Eater, then find a way to betray Voldemort.  As her denial was slipping, this realization was taking hold stronger than ever.  

Finally, when she could see the moon waning outside her small cell window, a distant door closed again.  Yesterday she would have assumed it was a house elf, arriving to give her food.  Today, she knew it was whoever had come to take her to Voldemort.  She stood and faced the door with as much dignity as possible.  A moment later, she heard a key turning in the lock and the door swung open.  It was Lucius Malfoy.  Most of her self-dignity flew away in that instant and she took a wary step back, still frightened of him.  The injuries the nurse had left—which had been aching on and off ever since Christmas—seemed to burn painfully at the sight of him, reminding her of everything he'd done to her.

He sneered, sensing her fear.  "Glad to see you're not so brave anymore.  Come over here."

Hermione hesitated and instead, she shifted a little bit in the direction of the wall.

"Foolish girl," he hissed.  "I do not intend to hurt you.  Get over here so I can mask your eyes.  You are an untrustworthy Death Eater, so you must be blindfolded while we make our journey to our Master's chamber."

Hermione winced when he called her a Death Eater, and again when he referred to Voldemort as her Master.  He could tell by the glint in his eyes that that had been his intent.  Still hesitant, Hermione came forward.  He pulled a black bag from his robes and jerked it over her head, instantly making everything go dark for her.  A moment later, he pulled a string, fastening the opening of the bag tightly around her neck.

She gasped at the sudden, complete darkness.  It was stifling in the bag, and for a moment, she feared she could not breathe.  She realized she could, but the air was stale.  When Malfoy pulled the string, she felt at her neck, and at the string digging into her skin.  

A moment later, Malfoy placed one of his hands on each of her arms.  She went instantly rigid, the terror she'd felt when he'd tortured her coming back to her full force.  She saw flashes and visions and memories in the darkness, and remembering was almost as painful as the injuries had been.  He shoved her forward and she walked.  They walked a long way and he had his hands on her arms the whole time, for purposes of steering and guiding her through the halls.  At one point, they went up a flight of stairs which he conveniently forgot to warn her about until she tripped.

Finally, they stopped and she felt one of his hands detach itself from her arm.  A moment later the sound of a knock came and she heard him call, "Master?  It is Lucius.  I have brought the girl."

"Enter," echoed the familiar voice that sent shivers down Hermione's spine.

Malfoy shoved her forward yet again, but they stopped soon after and he ripped the bag from her head.  She stood in a vast, dim room.  There was a bed in the distant corner and some other commodities, but mainly, it was taken up by the giant chair—throne, really—in the center of the room where Voldemort sat.  Hermione was fixated in horror by him, and went numb, just as she had the first time she'd seen him.  She dimly was aware the Lucius had sank to his knees and bowed his head.  Hermione tried to make her limbs obey, but all she could do was stare.

Voldemort quickly grew angry.  "It isn't polite to stare at your master, girl," he hissed.  Hermione opened her mouth to reply, but all the came out was a faint squeak of fear.  "And yet you have nothing to say?  I shall teach you some respect then, Mudblood.  _Crucio!_"

Instantly, pain ripped throughout Hermione's body, forcing her to her knees and making her scream, though she could not hear herself over the blood pounding in her ears.  Though it was over in just a few moments, it seemed more to her like hours.  When the pain went away, it left a hollow, terrified feeling in the pit of her stomach.  She found herself on all fours, gasping for breath

"Get up," Voldemort commanded uncaringly.  "Stand up and try again, or we can continue the lesson."

Hermione struggled to her feet, knowing from Lucius's torture that repetitive use of the Cruciatus Curse was far worse than just once.  She was trembling, and did not dare to look at Voldemort this time.

"Now, what do you do when you greet your master?"  
  


Hermione sank to her knees, which was a relief, as they were so weak beneath her she felt as though they would collapse any second.  She bowed her head and waited, mimicking what Malfoy had done.

"Better.  Much better.  Stand and face me."

Hermione once again did as ordered.  She was still trembling, but she dared not disobey Voldemort again.  "Yes . . . Master," she said, whispering the last word, and feeling like a traitor just for saying it.  _What would my parents think if they saw me now?_ she thought in shame.  _What about Dumbledore?  Hagrid?  Or worse . . . Harry and Ron . . ._

"Now, you see what happens when you do not follow orders.  Now, you get some idea of what you will suffer should it be a common occurrence," Voldemort stated and she didn't doubt for a second he meant it.  She nodded, unable to choke out the dirty words again.

"Down to business," he said calmly.  "You have read the packet and understand the terms, correct?"

"Yes," she whispered.

"However, though you submitted willingly, you submitted after torture.  You did it to save yourself, and therefore you are an untrustworthy ally.  We must watch you and make sure you do not betray us the first time you get the chance.  Pull up your sleeve."

Hermione did not doubt for a moment which sleeve he meant and she did it, doing her best not to look at the Mark there herself.  However, she was forced to a moment later when he ordered her to.  She turned her eyes to the mark and immediately ripped them away, unable to stare at it for longer than a few moments.

"Your mark is special, different from the other Death Eaters'.  That mark binds you to me, now and forever, whether I am around or not," he said menacingly.  "You cannot remove it ever, through any means.  Magically, you are under my control.  If I summon you, you will come.  If you run, I can track you down.  You are mine.  It will not be removed even if I die, and if I die, that Mark will still hold the magic of Dark in it forever.  The only escape is in death and even if you attempt to kill yourself, the Mark will stop it.  Should you die in battle, or should someone else kill you, you will die.  But suicide is also impossible now."

Hermione barely managed to stop a sob from escaping her lips.  She'd thought that maybe, if he died, then she would be free.  She'd never been too clear on the exact uses of the Dark Mark.  But now that she knew, she understood her life was ruined permanently.  She could no longer even take her own life.  It was her worst nightmare come to life.

"However, it does not protect against betrayal," he said sharply.  "You, I know, are quite capable of that and I cannot very well send you back to Hogwarts knowing that information.  Step forward so that I can touch the Mark with my wand."

Hermione walked forward, keeping her eyes lowered.  She felt like she was a magnet and Voldemort was the other.  The closer she got, the more she wanted to repel away.  However, unlike a magnet, she could not.  She came to a halt in front of him and once again, his cold finger laced around her arm.  He touched the tip of his wand to her arm, directly atop the Dark Mark.  "_Lokaium,_" he whispered.  Her mark flared vibrant green, and she gasped quickly as pain burned in it.  It stopped quickly, though, and the mark gradually returned to black.  

"There," Voldemort said.  "You can no longer do anything to betray me.  Should you attempt to say something, you will find yourself unable to.  Should you try to write something, you will not follow through with it.  You cannot harm another Death Eater. There is no way you can betray us to someone else.  The only people you can talk to about your life as a Death Eater are my minions and I, Draco, and Severus Snape, the other mole inside your school.  I take it you know him."

Hermione nodded numbly, not at all surprised Snape was working for Voldemort.  She had known since the end of the previous year that Snape was a Death Eater once.  It did not surprise her that he had gone back.

"Now, Lucius will take you back to your cell. Early in the morning, before it becomes light, he will Apparate you to Platform 9 ¾  where you will return to Hogwarts.  Draco has covered for you with your friends and teachers by telling them that you went away on a last minute emergency, concerning your family.  That will be all."

Hermione allowed Lucius to tie the bag over her head, and didn't really notice anything the whole trip back to her cell.  All she could think about was that she no longer even had the option of death at her hands, or betrayal.  She was being forced to serve the Dark.  She could not say she was a mole, or a good person working from the inside to destroy Dark.

All she could say was that she was Hermione Granger—a fool, and a minion of the Dark.

**************

It was barely dawn, and she stood, silent and apart, on Platform 9 ¾, waiting for the train to arrive.  Students surrounded her, talking animatedly with their friends about their Christmas holidays.  Hermione remembered the last time she'd left for Christmas, in her first year. She'd been dropped off by her parents, who had been reluctant to let her go back to Hogwarts, claiming they hated to have to send her so far away for so long.  The dull ache in her chest increased.  She'd been eleven, bright, carefree, and with the world at her feet.  Here she stood now, alone and in pain.  She was fifteen, an idiot, troubled beyond words, and had nothing.  She wanted to go to her parents terribly, but she knew she very well might never see them again.  She dared not try to send them a letter, even a friendly one, saying nothing about recent happenings.  She didn't want Voldemort to try to hurt them.

She did not bother looking for her friends.  Harry and Ron were at Hogwarts, and any of her friends that might be on the platform she no longer wanted to see.  Even though they knew nothing of what had happened, she still did not want them to see her.  

She was not to be that lucky.  As she was standing with most other students on the platform, waiting for them to open the doors to the train, she heard her name shouted from behind her.  She ignored it the first time, praying it had not been real, or that the person shouting had been calling for someone else.  When it came again, from closer, she sighed and turned to see who it was.

Ginny Weasley stood waving frantically with her parents near the entrance.  She was motioning for Hermione to join them and Hermione reluctantly walked over, trying to appear happy, though it was not easy.  When she reached them, Ginny greeted her happily.  Mr. Weasley smiled at her and shook her hand.  Mrs. Weasley hugged her, informing her that it was good to see her again.  Hermione unconsciously stiffened at her touch.  Mrs. Weasley felt it, and released her, saying nothing about it, though she was clearly puzzled.

"Hermione, I didn't see you on the train out of Hogwarts, or I'd have joined you.  I thought you were staying," Ginny proclaimed.  Hermione felt happy that Ginny looked quite content and like her old self for once since Percy's death, but it was difficult to feel terribly happy about anything anymore.

"I was staying," she lied easily.  "Then, I got notice from home of an emergency and I came there later."

"Oh, dear, I do hope everyone's all right," Mrs. Weasley said worriedly.  "It wasn't . . ."  She did not finish her sentence, but Hermione understood perfectly what she was referring to.

"No," she assured quickly.  "My grandmother was in an accident.  A car accident," she said.  "She's all right now though."

"I'm glad to hear it," Mrs. Weasley said, smiling.  She turned to look behind her, and frowned suddenly.  "Now where have they gotten off to . . . ?"

Ginny turned to Hermione, grinning.  "Fred and George are here!" she proclaimed.  "I figured you might want to see them again.  Too bad Harry's not around, too."

"Yes," Mrs. Weasley said unhappily.  "Not even Hogwarts students any longer and still they manage to disappear and get themselves into trouble."

Ginny leaned closer to Hermione and whispered, "They've gone into business—joke shop business.  Next year, they'll open a shop in Hogsmeade.  I'm ecstatic and they told me to spread word around Hogwarts.  You can help.  Mum's not too happy, though."

Hermione put a false smile on.  "Can't wait to visit their shop.  I'm sure it will be even better than Zonko's."

Before Ginny could reply, two tall twin boys with matching grins appeared beside their mother.  They looked basically the same as they had when they'd left Hogwarts, and Hermione could tell instantly that their trouble-making streak had not diminished in the slightest.

"Hermione!" one of them—she was pretty sure it was Fred, as he had an "F" sweater on, but judging from their past antics, she could not be sure—said, grinning and shaking her hand vigorously.  "Great to see you."

"Yeah," said the other, apparently George.  "Have you, Harry, and Ron gotten into anymore exciting, life-threatening and deadly fun situations yet?"  She could tell he was joking, but her throat tightened slightly at his words.

"Not yet . . . George?" she asked.

"Don't fall for it," Ginny warned.  "They've been switching shirts all morning and trying to confuse me."

"And it's worked, too, hasn't it?  By the way, Hermione, I'm George," the one she'd assumed was Fred, said.

"Then he's George," Ginny said dryly, pointing at the one with the "G" sweater.

George clasped his chest, pretending to be in pain.  "Oh, Ginny, dearest little sister, you have speared my heart!"

"Absolutely killed us!" Fred cried.

"Hurt for life, I am," George said solemnly.  "How can you not trust me?  How can you think I would lie to you?  I love you!  I would never trick you."

Ginny rolled her eyes.  "You _must_ be kidding."

Hermione, who was tiring of the happy conversation, used the excuse that the train was open to try and get the message across that she wanted to leave.  Mrs. Weasley nodded quickly and agreed.  She kissed Ginny on both cheeks and made sure to verbally check that she had everything before finally agreeing to let her go.  Fred and George did not let the opportunity pass though, and followed their mother's production of things, kissing Ginny, hugging her and asking in high-pitched voices if she was carrying obscure things such as Floo Power and apple pies.  Mrs. Weasley got annoyed at last and told them to go wait in the car.  They all said their goodbyes, and Hermione and Ginny walked back toward the train. Hermione was feeling worse than ever, after being in the presence of the Weasleys, who were a family still recovering from a tragedy and yet managed to seem so happy.    

She wished that Ginny would find another car to sit in, but she knew that they would be together the entire ride.  She thought of the irony in the fact that she had been alone in a cell for days, wishing for someone to come and help her.  Now she was out and in the midst of all the students she'd been with for years and she wanted that quiet, lonely cell.

Ginny talked off and on most of the ride, and Hermione said little in response.  There was a desperate desire deep within her heart to just blurt it all out to Ginny, to tell her everything.  If she could have, she would have in that instant, without regard for what the consequences might have been.  But she couldn't.  Finally, Ginny got the message that Hermione did not want to talk and pulled out a book to read.  Hermione did not have her things, so she sat there in silence the whole trip, staring out a window.

Finally, Ginny stood.  "Almost there.  I suppose I should put my robes on.  Do you want to borrow some from me? I see you don't have your things and mine should fit you.  I'm tall for my age—a Weasley trait, as I'm sure you know from Ron."

Hermione looked down at her clothing.  She was still wearing the Muggle sweatshirt and jeans she had been wearing when she'd first been captured.  She'd used her wand—which Lucius had returned to her earlier that morning, with the warning that the spell would stop her from attacking him or any other Death Eater—to restore them to normal, washing away the blood and dirt and mending the rips and tears.  She'd even managed to take care of the smell and tame her hair, which had been a nightmare, but she decided to take Ginny up on her offer and agreed.

She grabbed the robe Ginny handed her and the two girls began to shrug into them.  The train lurched under their feet as Hermione was putting hers on  and she lost her balance, falling.  The robe fell to the ground, and she cursed, making sure her sleeves were still down, which they were.  She rolled over and started to get to her feet when she heard Ginny gasp.  She looked up at the girl who looked shocked and horrified.  _She couldn't have seen the Mark_, she thought desperately.  

She hadn't.  "Your back," she whispered, looking scared.  

Hermione shut her eyes in a mixture of shame, horror and relief.  The nurse that had healed her had left most of her bruises and gashes on her back, as they could not be seen.  When she'd fallen, she supposed her shirt had gone up enough for Ginny to see the marks.  Hermione knew there was no way she could deny it, but she couldn't tell the truth either.  Instead, thinking hard, she just nodded, then walked over to sit down, the robe Ginny had lent her lying ignored and forgotten on the floor.  

Ginny hadn't moved.  She was staring at her friend.  "Hermione," she said slowly, "what happened?  Who did that to you?"

Hermione looked at the floor, both because the memory was still fresh and painful, and because she could not think of a lie.  "I . . . I'd rather not talk about it, Ginny," she whispered, telling a mixture of truth and lie.  She did want to tell Ginny how she'd gotten them, because then she might find some help, but she didn't want to relive it.

"You've seemed jumpy and distant since we met up at the station," Ginny realized slowly.  "You weren't like that before break and if you were, you did a hell of a job covering it."

_Yes, Ginny, figure it out on your own, please_, Hermione begged silently.  Of course, she knew Ginny would not.  She was smart, certainly, but Hermione's story was far too obscure and impossible for anyone to guess.  She said nothing out loud.

"Those wounds were fresh," Ginny said.  "You must have gotten them during the holidays.  Hermione, tell me what happened.  I just want to help.  I won't tell anyone if you don't want me to.  Whatever it is, it's serious, I know that."

_No, Ginny.  You have no idea how serious it is,_ Hermione thought.  "I know you want to help, but it's not something that's likely to happen again and I'm fine.  I just don't want to talk about it, all right?  And don't tell anyone what you saw, please?"  She was shocked at the words that came from her mouth.  She'd decided to test the spell and try and tell Ginny to tell Ron and Harry—the exact opposite had happened.  All hope seemed to vanish from the room in that instant.  She was truly alone.

Ginny nodded.  "I don't understand, but I won't tell.  And I hope you're right when you say it won't happen again."

"It won't," Hermione replied shortly, bending down and picking up the robe.  "The train's slowing.  It's time to go."  She shrugged into the black robe and turned away, hoping Ginny would not question her further.

They got off the train and Ginny went to go and get her things.  Hermione, having nothing to collect, told Ginny that she was going on ahead.  Ginny nodded, watching her closely.  Hermione turned and started the long walk back to the grounds of Hogwarts.  There were carriages like in the beginning of the year, but Hermione ignored them.  She decided she would prefer to walk than to be sandwiched into a carriage with someone else, which was sure to happen.

The day was sunny and much warmer than the day on which she'd last been at Hogwarts, though still not actually warm.  There was a thin coating of snow under her feet, and the lake was beginning to thaw just enough for the giant squid to find a shallow area and stick one of his tentacles through, causing it to appear as though he were waving.

By the time she reached the steps of Hogwarts, all the carriages had long since come and gone, and the students were all inside.  Harry and Ron were sitting, talking animatedly on the stairs, when they spotted her.  Harry leaped to his feet and Ron trudged to his.

"Hermione!" they both called, and she was greeted by hugs, which she was careful not to stiffen at. 

She told them the same story of an emergency with her grandmother and they all headed inside.  Ron was commenting on how her presents were still up in her dormitory and how she could open them whenever she liked.  She didn't care much about presents anymore, but decided to do it just to make them feel like she was acting somewhat normal.

Hermione opened her gifts in front of the two down in the common room and was pleased with what she'd received—several new books, some candy, a sweater from Mrs. Weasley, and a book from Hagrid called "_Defending_ _Against_ _the_ _Impossible_: _The_ _Most_ _Powerful_ _Anti_-_Dark_ _Arts_ _Spells_ _Known_ _to_ _Wizard_ _Kind_."  Hermione bit her lip as she stared at the book, thinking how it could no longer help her at all.

"Well?" Ron asked expectantly, raising an eyebrow and grinning.  "You like them?"

Hermione nodded.  "They're lovely.  Thank you both."  Ron had given her a brand new book bag, twice the size of her old one, claiming she'd most likely need it with all of her books.  Harry had given her a camera that could take moving pictures, similar to the one Colin Creevy had.

"I got the idea from him, actually," Harry admitted sheepishly when she mentioned this.  "You don't have to develop these kind in special solution—they just come out moving, like Muggle automatic cameras.  I know how much you've been missing your parents lately and I thought it might help.  Of course, it's not the same as actually seeing them, I know that better than anybody, but I do know that it's cool to see a moving picture, rather than one where it just looks like . . . well, a picture."

Hermione had hugged him, trying not to cry and knowing that she would probably never even get a chance to use it for the purpose Harry had intended.  Harry had hugged her back awkwardly, enjoying it, and glaring at Ron who stood behind them, grinning at him tauntingly and making kissing faces.  Harry was simply glad Ron stood where Hermione could not see him—had she been able to, he'd have had to kill his best friend.

"I can't believe classes start again tomorrow," Ron groaned, helping Hermione carry her new items back up to her dorm.  "It's been such a great break hasn't it?"

Hermione's steps faltered momentarily, then kept walking, praying they hadn't seen.  They had, but Ron assumed the lie.  "Oh," he said apologetically.  "Sorry, Hermione.  That was a stupid comment.  I know how you're feeling."

Hermione nodded.  "It's fine.  Grandma's okay now, so things turned out well.  It was just sort of a . . . depressing Christmas, is all."  Ron and Harry accepted that, and Hermione sighed inwardly.  Day one of her life as a spy for Voldemort and already she was messing up.  Maybe she'd get lucky and he'd kill her—the spell would allow for that.

But she had the feeling he wouldn't kill her.  He knew that's what she wanted.  And Voldemort never gave people what they wanted.

************

Classes were horrible, much worse than they'd been when she'd first returned from learning about The Key.  She no longer cared at all for schoolwork—where would it get her?  Her future was already destroyed.  She was simply wasting her time.  She skipped breakfast entirely to avoid Malfoy.  She didn't know how she felt about seeing him.  She hated him and wanted to hurt him, for putting her in the place she was now in, but she was also scared of him.  If he was anything like his father . . .

She did not see him until Potions.  This was the class she had been dreading, knowing that not only would she have to be with him in the same room, she would have to sit with him at the same table.  She came into class and started to walk over toward the table where she was always supposed to sit.  Malfoy had not arrived yet, but just the thought of him sitting next to her was enough to make her steps slow and hesitant.

Snape, the other factor of the class she'd been dreading, saw her and said in his low, menacing voice, "And where are you going, Miss Granger?"

"To my table, sir," she answered.  

He watched her closely, and she broke eye contact with him and glanced over at Harry and Ron, who were watching the exchange with scowls.  "Well," he said finally, "I think you can be allowed to sit where you want again.  Pick your seat."

She was startled.  This was certainly the last thing she'd expected.  "For . . . for today, sir?" she asked.

"Until I say otherwise," he snapped.  "Now do it before I change my mind."

Hermione snapped back into action and walked over to where Harry and Ron were, sitting down in between them.  Her eyes trailed Snape, who was watching students come in with his signature frown.

"What's wrong with him?" Harry asked.  "He's been torturing you all year.  What's made him decide to be nice?"

"Don't jinx it, Harry," Ron warned.  "Can't imagine it'll last longer than today.  Or longer than a minute ago."

Hermione sat quietly throughout the lesson, saying nothing.  Snape did not bother her, nor did he say anything to her at all.  Malfoy kept glancing in her direction from across the classroom, but she did not look at him once.

At the end of the class, Snape called her up to his desk and she motioned for Harry and Ron to go to Charms.  Whatever was going to be said, if they heard it, their lives would be in danger.  This was the only thing that had been keeping her from trying to make them catch on somehow—she didn't want them to be hurt because they were getting in Voldemort's way.  While it was likely they would be hurt anyway, she didn't want to push the chances.  Hermione walked over to where Snape stood behind his desk.  At this point, only Draco was left in the classroom, gathering his things at a terribly slow pace. 

"Mr. Malfoy!" Snape barked, making Draco jump.  "_Get_ _out_!"  Draco nodded and hurried out of the classroom, still glancing backwards at them.  Snape watched the door with distaste, pulled out his wand, and muttered, "_Silencio_!"  It was the Silencing Charm, so no one could hear them speak.  He tucked his wand away and looked at Hermione.

"Why did you do that, sir?" Hermione dared to ask.

"Our conversation is private," he said calmly.  "I do not want Potter, or Weasley, or Malfoy, or anyone else who's likely to be lurking around to overhear."  Hermione nodded.  "I know you are a Death Eater now, Miss Granger."

Hermione nodded again, but this time her head was bowed and she dare not look at him.  

"I know it is not your fault, so do not look so pathetic about it," Snape snapped.  

"I think I have the right to feel sorry for myself," she snarled back.  She knew Snape was a Death Eater, but she'd been arguing with him for five years; he did not inspire the terror in her the other Death Eaters did.  "I was kidnapped, tortured, made a Death Eater, had my entire life taken away from me and now Dark is most likely going to take over.  I can't even kill myself!  Yes, I think this is a good time to feel sorry!"

"Then you would be wrong," Snape said, in a voice that was not a snarl, but nothing resembling contrite or gentle.  "I am well aware of what Lucius did.  I am well aware of the Mark on your arm.  I am also aware of the spell Voldemort performed on you and of Mr. Malfoy.  But if you want any chance of saving yourself and everyone else, you need to stay strong."

Now Hermione felt very confused.  "What are you talking about?  You're a Death Eater, aren't you?  You want Dark to take over."

Snape sighed in exasperation.  "I was hoping you and Mr. Potter on one of your little adventures had discovered my secret.  Unfortunately I was wrong.  I am a Death Eater, but I am working against them, for Dumbledore.  I'm a double-agent, I suppose."

Hermione felt shocked.  "You are?" she whispered.  The possibility had never crossed her mind.  She studied him and still felt that her guess had not been all that far-fetched.  Anyone who knew Snape would assume what she had rather than what he claimed to be the truth.

"Yes."

"Well . . . then tell Dumbledore!" Hermione cried, hope surging through her.  "Tell him what's happened to me—he'll help."

Snape, for the first time, appeared contrite.  "I'm sorry, Miss Granger, but I can't."

"Why not?" Hermione demanded, disappointed.

"Because Voldemort doesn't trust me either.  I have a spell on me, though not one as strong as yours.  I can find ways around it to tell Dumbledore things, but I cannot come out with the truth about you.  It's one of the strongest aspects of the spell—I cannot betray another Death Eater, and while you are not a loyal one, you are still a Death Eater."

Hermione felt the disappointment weighing her down.  "Well, it's still different for you," she said.  "You _can_ help Dumbledore, even if it is just a bit.  I can't even talk about what happened."

"No, you cannot.  But if you want to help your friends, stay strong," he said, returning to what he'd said earlier.  "There may be a chance for you to help in some way, but you won't be able to do anything if you fall into despair.  Keep your head up.  Now go off to your next class, and do not speak of what happened here today.  And though I may be working for Dumbledore and know your secret, I am not a source of support, I want you to understand that.  I will act to you as I always have, and you will do the same with me. You will not talk to me about this unless it is an emergency or I summon you.  That is all."

"Thanks for the advice. I really feel motivated," she said sarcastically and left the room.

She couldn't believe that Snape was really a double-agent—but he was still the same old Snape.  She knew that she would find no help there.  The encounter with Snape had destroyed all her resistance to make it through her last class, and she decided to ditch, for the first time in her life.  She went up to Gryffindor Tower and put her books away, then laid on her bed, thinking about what Snape had said.  

When she heard Lavender and Parvati come in, she realized Charms was over, and it was time for dinner.  She was hungry and so she decided to attend this meal.  Harry and Ron questioned her about why she'd missed Charms and she lied and told them that Snape had sent her on an errand for him.  She explained that she had not gotten back in time for class.  Both looked suspicious, but didn't say anything.  She had not seen that expression on Harry's face since she'd spoken with him earlier in the year.  There was a difference this time, though—this time, she wanted him to find out.  She remembered promising to tell him if anything happened to her.  She wished desperately that she could.

Justin caught up with her in the hall and told her that they had a meeting that night.  He looked happy about it, but Hermione hated it.  Over an hour in a small classroom with Malfoy where they would be expected to work together.  The prospect did not appeal to her in the slightest.

That night, she made sure to hang around Harry and Ron until eight, when she headed out the door.  She deliberately told a weak lie (that she needed help with her Transfiguration homework, which was easily her best subject this year) to inspire more curiosity in them.  If she could not tell them, she would drop all the hints she could to make them suspicious, to make them want to start investigating.  She'd decided that she could not be worried that Voldemort would kill them—he already wanted to.  She felt it was better for both her and them if they knew what was happening.  The trick was to get them to find out.  

Harry looked at her when she lied, and said, "Are you okay, Hermione?  Sure there's nothing you want to talk about?"

"No," she replied.  She tried to wink at him before she left, but she found that she could not—all she could do was blink.  She felt despair at the realization that it was Voldemort's spell working to stop her from giving them such a hint.  All she could do was lie in weak ways and be public about her status as a resistance member.

The Key was torture.  She and Draco sat on opposite ends of the chair line that was always set up.  He said nothing to her and stayed away, which she was grateful for.  At one point during the lesson, when Professor McGonagall was showing them a new spell, she called up both Draco and Hermione to demonstrate.  She instructed Draco to take out his wand and prepare to administer the curse to Hermione.

Draco, who had been wary of Hermione all day, saw the fear flash through her eyes, could see the internal struggle in her.  "Let her curse me," he said, tucking his wand away, and watching Hermione's eyes turn from frightened to shocked and suspicious.  He put on a sneer.  "I'm sure she's dying to show off, aren't you, Granger?"

"That's enough," McGonagall snapped, accustomed to their arguments, and knowing better than to let one start.  "Fine, then.  Hermione, please take out your wand and administer the curse to Draco."

The curse was one to throw your enemy against a far wall—the very curse the Draco had used on her in the beginning of the year, she remembered.  She raised her wand, thinking that it was about time she got retribution for that—if only she could get retribution for everything else.  "_Jevolosia_!" she cried.  A ribbon of gold shot out of her wand and hit Draco in the stomach, sending him flying backwards against the wall Dumbledore had protected with a Softening Spell.  However, anger fueling her, she raised her wand again, before Draco hit the wall.  "_Removio Protectonsy_!" she said, removing the protective barrier in front of the wall.  Draco smashed into it a millisecond later, and slid to the floor, groaning and clutching his stomach.  

McGonagall ran to him, but Hermione stood her ground, tucking her wand away and letting a small smile play on her lips.  Draco would know that if she had to be a Death Eater, she would not put up with him.  Justin and Jenna were looking at her with grins on their faces which were quite contrary to those of the teachers.

"You are supposed to be working together, not fighting one another!" McGonagall cried, helping Draco to his feet.  He was brushing it off like it was nothing.  "Miss Granger, I am quite disappointed in you."

"Yeah, Granger, what were you trying to do, kill me?" Draco snapped.  He knew he had to keep up the appearances that he was not guilty at all.  However, he understood perfectly why she'd done it, and, as a strong surprise to himself, he wasn't angry.

"If only I could," she hissed.  "Believe me, should our circumstances allow for it . . ."

Draco knew she was speaking of one of the affects of Voldemort's spell—she couldn't harm him, as he was now a Death Eater.  McGonagall simply assumed their "circumstances" were The Key.

"I do not know what has gone on between you two to make you hate each other so, but I suggest you leave it outside this classroom," she said angrily.  "That's enough for one day.  Get out of here.  I apologize to Justin and Jenna for cutting our lesson short."

The four headed back down, Justin giving Hermione a thumbs-up, and Jenna grinning at her.  Hermione was not smiling.  Much as she'd enjoyed what she had done, it was nothing compared to what Draco had done to her—and all that spell had done was make her as desperate for revenge as a shark in bloody water.  Normally she was not vindictive, but now everything was different.  What she'd once considered normal would never again be so.

Hermione hurried to catch up with Justin and Jenna, but Draco stepped in front of her.  She stepped to the side, and so did he.  She knew it would do no good to try to get past him further and Justin and Jenna had already disappeared.

"What?" she hissed.  "Haven't you done enough to me already?"

To her surprise, an expression of pain came over his face.  "Look, Granger . . . I'm sorry.  I chose you as the one member of The Key to turn Dark.  I also told my father about The Key in the first place.  It is my fault, as much as Voldemort's.  But you don't understand why.  At first, I hated you, I wanted to see you suffer."  Tears came to her eyes, and he regretted his way of saying it.  Apologizing was something he had no experience with.

"Well," she said, voice trembling, "you got your wish.  I've suffered.  I've suffered more than you can _ever_ understand.  And my suffering will last for the rest of my pathetic, miserable life serving a man I hate and watching him destroy everyone I love.  I hope you're happy, Malfoy."  She pulled out her wand, almost automatically, with no real thought in the matter.  "I should have done this long ago, but I had morals and standards.  Now that's been ripped away from me, thanks to you.  Now I don't care if I sink to your level.  I just want you to die.  And you deserve it more than you ever did."

"You can't hurt me," he said dully, with absolutely no pleasure in his voice.  "I'm a Death Eater."

"No, you're not, liar," she growled.  "I saw your arm."

"I am now," he said.  "My father initiated me after I brought you to him and successfully covered where you'd gone."  He pulled up his sleeve to reveal to her the Dark Mark.

She barked out a laugh that contained no humor.  "You did it all because you wanted so badly to be a Death Eater?"  She shook her head in disgust and shame.  "I guess there's no limits for you, are there, Malfoy?  I hope you die.  That's all I can say.  And I promise you that should Voldemort ever remove this curse, you will be my first victim."  With that, she stormed away down the hall.

"Wait!"  he yelled.  "You didn't let me finish!"  She didn't so much as falter her steady stride.  He sighed.  He knew she would never listen to his explanation as to why he'd done it.  "I'm sorry," he whispered.  He wished she'd understand.  "For the first time in my life, I am."


	10. Destiny's Revelations

::: 10 ::: _Destiny's Revelations_

_"As I walk this land of broken dreams,_

_I have visions of many things._

_But happiness is just an illusion._

_Filled with sadness and confusion."_

_--Artist Unknown_

Weeks passed and Hermione continued to unwillingly do Voldemort's bidding.  Once a week, she and Draco would sneak down to the Forbidden Forest and deliver a report to a different Death Eater.  Reports consisted of new things discovered in The Key and for her, anything about Harry.  Thus far, they had reported no ways into the school.  Hermione knew of the Marauder's Map and the passages, but she could not possibly bring herself to tell them about it, unless she was forced.  She would betray her friends only as much as she had to. She walked around in a type of stupor and surrealism, similar to right after she'd learned of The Key.  Only, this time, as time passed, it did not get any better.  She knew it never would.  When she looked back at how hard she'd taken her involvement in The Key, it was almost laughable to her.  She'd thought it was the worst fate on the planet.  Now she knew how weak she had been before.  Each night, nightmares of her imprisonment plagued her dreams, causing her to frequently awaken, shaking and sobbing.  She never got a full night's sleep anymore, as she found it near impossible to return to the depths of her dreams after one of the nightmares.  She knew more were lurking unseen beneath the surface of the façade that was sleep.  Her nightmares were so real, almost as if she were reliving the entire experience and she often awoke to think she was still in that awful cell. Ginny had said nothing more to her about what she'd seen on the train, though she did glance at her in a way that was not normal every now and then.  Harry and Ron did not seem to be picking up on her hints enough to do any investigating, much to her disappointment.  Much to her relief, Malfoy stayed away from her.  Their conversation still struck anger into her heart.  How dare he attempt to apologize?  She knew he was lying, and even if he was not, did he honestly think that any apology could suffice for what he'd done to her life? 

Snape had done as he'd promised and returned to his typical way of treating her.  He did not make her work with Malfoy again, though he did continue to pair Harry or Ron up with the traitor every chance he got.  Snape did not speak to her again, and she didn't care.  No matter if he was working for Dumbledore, he would never be any help to her.

Hermione no longer cared about school, nor did she care enough about keeping up her cover to do her work for the sake of appearances.  If she was lucky, Voldemort would kill her, or Harry and Ron would find out what was happening.  She had not bothered with any homework, except for the occasional assignment to avoid detention or fill time when she had nothing better to do.  All her teachers were acting worried about her behavior.  McGonagall, Flitwick, Vector, and Hagrid had already spoken to her about it and the others were on the verge of the same thing.  With the first three teachers, McGonagall in particular, they all assumed it was The Key that was responsible for her change of attitude.  McGonagall offered her a break in training and she almost took it.  However, in the end, she did not. She hoped that one day, if she was careful enough to drop the right hints that would bypass the spell, Harry or Ron would find out where she went.  It was her sole reason for continuing and her only real chance at getting them to investigate.  She could not lose that, or her last small shred of reason for living would vanish and she would not be able to continue.  Perhaps she could not kill herself, and she didn't know what else she might try to do, but she knew that if she were pushed over that edge, a drastic measure would be taken that she would have no chance to undo.  For all she knew, that could make her circumstances worse.  True, it didn't appear possible for life to become any more hopeless than it currently was, but she'd learned from experience not to think things could not get worse.

Hagrid's conversation with her was different—and far harder to deal with.  He told her he wanted to talk to her after class, but this time it was not an invitation—it was an order.  He watched and waited for all the other kids to leave, and when they did, he led Hermione into his hut.  Fang greeted her in the same fashion he usually did, but this time, she found no joy in seeing the happy dog.  She absentmindedly scratched his ears for a moment, then took a seat at one of Hagrid's tables.  Hermione noticed Hagrid had seen her reaction to Fang and was frowning, but he made no comment.

"So," he began.  "How yeh bin?"

Hermione shrugged.  "Fine, I guess."

"Yeh guess?" Hagrid asked, shaking his head.  "Hermione, yeh know or yeh don'.  An' this is all one big bunch o' small talk anyway.  Yeh know why I wan' ter talk with yeh, don' yeh?"

Hermione nodded, still not speaking if she could help it.  She had grown quiet the past few weeks, and didn't intend to break that pattern now.  "My grades," she whispered.  "They've gone down."  She said this in a flat, matter-of-fact tone that left no room for doubt.

"Yeah," Hagrid said, nodding.  "Yeah, they have, by a drastic amount.  Yeh used to be top o' yer year and o' every class.  Now you're in the very bottom percentage range.  An' had it bin any normal student, I'd have jus' talked with their head o' house an' left it at tha'.  But you, Harry, an' Ron are more 'n jus' students ter me.  Yer my friends.  I know tha' yeh wouldn' do summat like let yer grades go down without a good reason—you in particular.  So tell me, wha's goin' on?"

Hermione shook her head.  "Nothing, Hagrid.  I just . . . I've been irresponsible."

"No, yeh haven'," he sighed.  "Yeh've bin distracted.  Summat's happened ter yeh, Hermione.  I dunno wha', an' I dunno why, but summat's happened whether yeh wan' ter tell me or not.  Is it The Key?"

"Maybe," she said dully, not looking at him.

"Hermione, yeh know wha's wrong, there aren' any '_maybes'_ ter be said.  If yeh don' wan' ter tell me—which, apparently, yeh don'—yeh can at least tell me tha'.  I'll mind me own business.  But give me some clue here.  Normally, I'd think it was The Key, but somehow, I don' think so.  Yeh bin in there fer months, an' I find out what goes on in the lessons.  I don' think tha's caused this."

Hermione frowned.  "Think what you want.  May I leave?"  Hermione didn't know what fueled her rude response.  She wasn't sure if it was a desire to make him realize something was wrong or just her unconscious reaction to people pressing her for information she could not give.  Either way, she regretted her words by the look of hurt that came across Hagrid's face.  "Hagrid," she said, "I'm sorry."

"Naw," he said, standing.  "Nothin' ter be sorry fer.  Tha' jus' makes me realize even more tha' summat's wrong.  Yer never rude, Hermione.  I wonder if whatever this is yer tryin' ter hide, if yeh don' really wan' someone ter know abou' it.  I know tha' when yeh cover summat up, yeh do a much better job than this.  Anyone'd know yer lyin'.  Think abou' tha'.  An' if yeh don' wan' ter talk ter me, talk ter Harry, or Ron, or yer parents.  Yer friends are worried abou' yeh—told me so themselves.  An' whatever this is, yeh should know yer parents'll help yeh.  Don' make the same mistake I did, an' not really appreciate 'em till their gone."

Hagrid's speech was so much more heartfelt and caring than anything else Hermione had heard since she'd become a Death Eater.  He truly cared what was going on.  Ginny wanted to know what had happened to her, but she didn't know enough to really help.  Harry and Ron were worried, but they weren't even talking to her about it, though she knew they cared.  She had not heard anyone express any open concern for her well-being for over a month, and Hagrid's sudden talk had caught her by surprise.  She felt tears in her eyes, and tried to blink them away before they could be seen.  She could not.

"Hermione," Hagrid said, shaking his head, but not moving forward, knowing she did not want him to.  "I know yeh don' wan' my help, an' I won' press yeh unless I feel I really need ter.  But tell me one thin' at least—admit tha' summat' _is_ wrong."

Hermione, unconsciously, attempted to tell him that something was wrong.  Unfortunately, when she opened her mouth, the word "yes" did not come out.  "No," she said.  "Nothing's wrong."  Hermione knew it was the work of Voldemort's spell, but she felt a tear slip down her cheek anyway.  She was surrounded by people who wanted to help her, and yet they could not because she couldn't so much as tell them there was something wrong.  "I . . . I've got to go," she said, turning and hurrying from the hut.  _Hopefully he'll tell Harry and Ron about all this_, she thought as she walked back to the castle.  _Maybe then they'll start to investigate._

But she had so little faith left that she didn't believe it for a second.

****************

Harry sat by the fire in the Gryffindor common room staring silently into the flames.  He was in one of the large, soft chairs positioned in front of a table where he'd been intending to do his homework.  He had gotten nothing done.  He couldn't get his mind off of Hermione.  In fact, his homework made him think about her even more.

Hermione had been acting completely unlike herself ever since she had come back from Christmas holidays.  She had not been speaking to them, had been sneaking out several times per week to do strange, unknown things, and completely ignoring her homework.  Ron wrote it off as a rebellious stage, but Harry was not sure.  Because of her odd behavior, he'd postponed telling Hermione how he felt about her.  

Hermione was not bothering to hide her strange actions either and that was the weirdest part of all.  It was as though she wanted to tell them she wasn't right, but didn't want to use words.  Harry was worried about her.  He still remembered their conversations months ago—he had never forgotten them.  Whatever was going on had escalated—he felt it and he knew he was right.  He'd attempted to speak with her about it, but she had always found something she needed to do, or something to distract her while he tried to talk to her.

He'd wanted to follow her several times when she snuck out of the common room, but Ron had always stopped him,  telling him to respect her privacy.  Harry couldn't take it anymore.  He'd respected her privacy long enough and now he was going to do something about his suspicions.  The next time she left the common room, he would follow her.  No matter what Ron said, and no matter what Hermione thought of it.  Something was wrong and he wasn't going to let it continue to happen while he remained ignorant.

****************

That very night, in fact, Hermione had one of the resistance meetings.  Harry and Ron had been doing their homework in the commons and Hermione had been silently reading a book across from them.  They had not even bothered asking her about her homework—she had not done it.  She never did anymore.

She kept glancing at her watch, then back at her book, as though impatient.  Finally, she stood and set the book down on the table, heading for the portrait hole.

"Where are you going now?" Ron yelled.  "You know, these little secrets of yours are getting annoying.  We're supposed to be your friends!"

She didn't say anything and left.  

Harry watched the portrait hole after it had closed for about sixty seconds, then he stood up himself, gathering his homework into a slovenly pile and setting his books on top of it.  "Watch these.  I'll be back . . . sometime," he said uncertainly.  To be truthful, he didn't know when he'd be back because he would not return until Hermione did.

"You're following her, aren't you?" Ron asked with no surprise in his voice.  "To be honest, I was wondering how long you'd put up with me telling you to let her be before you followed her anyway.  Surprised you waited this long.  Have fun.  Tell me what you find."

"You want to come?" Harry asked, shrugging out of his robes, feeling it was unnecessary to wear them.  

"Nope," Ron said.  "I've got homework.  I'll let you copy mine when you get back.  To be honest, I doubt you'll find much or else I'd tag along."

Harry nodded.  "Okay.  Thanks."  Then he took off towards the portrait hole.  He stepped out on the other side to find the hallway black.  He remembered from Astronomy that this was the week of the new moon.  He cursed and lit his wand, keeping his shirt over the end to dull the light.  

He did not see Hermione and picked a direction purely on instinct.  It turned out he was right, as when he turned the corner, he saw Hermione jogging down a flight of stairs.  He ran after her, trying to keep as close as he could without being seen and trying to run without making a lot of noise.  

He kept pace with her, every now and then darting behind a stature or corner if it looked like she was going to turn around.  When she finally stopped, they were in front of Dumbledore's office.  She muttered a password and the gargoyle slid open.  She entered and Harry watched, shocked as the gargoyle closed once more.  This was the last place he'd expected to follow her to, though he hadn't had much idea of where he would end up anyway.  He'd expected, partially due to Ron's assumptions, that Hermione would be doing something against school rules.  Going to Dumbledore's office was out of his realm of ideas.

He picked a spot behind a corner where he could see the statue, but anyone emerging from it could not see him.  There, he slid to the floor and shut out his wand.  He waited alone in the dark silence for more than an hour and a half.  He heard a loud sound echo from around the corner and leaped to his feet, looking to see if the gargoyle was opening.  

It wasn't.  Peeves was bouncing along the corridor, cackling in a high-pitched voice and obviously having a very good time bouncing from wall to wall.  _Please don't let him see me,_ Harry begged silently.  _I'll be caught for sure._

Luck was not with Harry.  Peeves turned Harry's corner, and as hard as Harry tried to slouch into the shadows and disappear, it did not work.  Peeves spotted him and dropped his game, focusing on his new prey.

"Well," Peeves said in his usual taunting voice.  "Well, well, well.  Wee Potter's out of bed, I see.  Oh, I wonder why that would be?"

"Shut up, Peeves, please?" Harry begged, though he knew it was no use.  

Peeves continued as though he had not heard Harry.  "Something against the rules, I'll bet.  You shouldn't be out of bed, you know.  Against the rules, that is.  Any good citizen of this school would report you, you know."  He put a hand over where his heart would have been had his body not been translucent in a mock-saintly fashion.

"Please, Peeves, you can't do this," Harry whispered, knowing it was too late.  

"Watch me!" he cackled, soaring higher into the air and wailing, "DEAR FILCH, DEAR HEADMASTER, TEACHERS, COME QUICK—THERE IS A STUDENT HERE!  _STUDENT!_"

Harry winced and turned to run across the hall where there was a large statue of Landon the Leery which he hoped he could hide behind if someone came.  He crouched down behind it and watched from around it how to see Peeves would react.

Someone did come, almost instantly.  Mrs. Norris appeared and her eyes narrowed in on Peeves.  The poltergeist scowled in disgust of the cat.  He turned and flew away down the hall as fast as he could.  He made it out of sight just in time, because not ten seconds later, Filch appeared by his cat, looking around menacingly.  Harry was sure he was about to be caught, but Filch's next words made him realize that the caretaker had not heard what the poltergiest had actually said.

"Peeves," he hissed.  "Shouting loud, obscene things in the middle of the night, attempting to wake the whole school!  Come, my sweet, we shall cut him off further down."  And with that, he and his cat headed down the hallway and past Dumbledore's office.  

Harry let out a relieved sigh.  He vowed that next time he followed Hermione anywhere after hours, he was taking his Invisibility cloak.  It just wasn't worth all the risk without it.  He did not move from his position behind the statue, though it was cramped and much more uncomfortable than his last place had been.  At least there he had less chance of being seen.

At least twenty minutes later, as he was beginning to fall asleep, he heard the distinct sound of the gargoyle sliding open.  He got to his feet and peered cautiously around the corner.  This time, he saw Hermione appearing from the staircase behind the gargoyle.  However, she was not alone.  Three other people followed.  At first, Harry could not get a clear look at any of them.  The first person he identified was—much to his disgust—Draco Malfoy.  Then he recognized a second person—Justin Finch-Fletchley.  The third was a small first year he did not recognized dressed in Ravenclaw robes.

Harry watched as Hermione, Justin, and Jenna all headed in the direction of their own common rooms, taking the same hall north.  Draco scowled at their backs, then turned down the south corridor.  For a moment, his gaze seemed to hit Harry, making him uncomfortable.  Then Draco kept moving and Harry knew he had not been seen.

Harry sat in the silent darkness for a while after Hermione had departed.  What had she been doing in Dumbledore's office with Malfoy, Justin, and a first year?  Had they gotten in trouble?  He had the feeling that they had not and that they came there—that Hermione came there—every other night at this time.  Hermione always left every other night at eight.  A secret class, perhaps?  But why?  And for what?

Harry had not made much progress in his search for questions.  Certainly, he'd learned a few things and gotten a few answers to his questions.  Unfortunately, he'd also gained more questions, putting him right back where he'd started.

****************

The next day, he did not mention anything about the previous night's events to Hermione.  She seemed as sullen and withdrawn as usual and acted as she had been for the past weeks.  Harry filled Ron in that night and Ron was just as shocked as he had been.

"Whoa," he breathed.  "Unexpected."

"Yeah.  I have a feeling that's where she always goes.  I'm following her again tomorrow," Harry said determinedly.  "And don't even try to stop me."

"I won't.  In fact, I think I'll come with you this time," Ron offered.  

So, the very next night, when Hermione left the common room at eight, Harry and Ron whipped out Harry's Invisibility cloak.  They gave her a few moments, again, to get ahead of them, then threw the cloak over themselves.  This time, they were able to follow easier, not having to worry about being seen.  They got there and stood to the side of the hall, watching Hermione venture once more into Dumbledore's office.  A minute later, Draco, looking surly, arrived and entered as well.  They waited ten more minutes, but it finally became clear that no one else was coming.

"I don't think we need to wait this time," Harry whispered to Ron.  "We know what will happen.  And we know she comes here every other night.  That's about all we can find out from this.  Too bad the cloak doesn't let you walk through walls, or we could walk right up there.  Of course . . . maybe we could just go up the stairs and listen through the door . . ."

"No," Ron said immediately.  "Even if we just listened at the door, Dumbledore would know.  You know him.  He's practically got telepathy."

Harry agreed, and the two went back to Gryffindor common room, still confused, but even more curious than ever.

*****************

Hermione's night was not yet done after her class had ended that evening.  Normally, she would have headed back to the common room and gone to sleep, but not tonight.  Tonight, Draco and Hermione hung back in the hall until Justin and Jenna had gotten out of view.  Then, the two headed out of Hogwarts and onto the grounds.

It was Friday, the night when Hermione and Draco were to report.  They snuck past Hagrid's hut and into the forest beyond.  Hermione, who could never find her way, allowed Draco to pick the path.  She didn't trust him and every time she entered this place she remembered how he'd tricked her, but she couldn't find her way alone.

They found the small clearing where they always met with a Death Eater.  This week, the Death Eater was not a mysterious person cloaked by an all-covering hood, but instead, for the first time, Lucius Malfoy himself.  Hermione hung back at the sight of him, but Draco looked shocked and surprised.  He marched right up to him.

"What are you doing here?" Draco demanded.  "You're not supposed to meet us here.  Too risky, remember?"

"I remember well, Draco," Lucius said condescendingly.  "I shall do what I feel like doing.  This is necessary.  Girl!  Get up here."

Hermione walked forward unhappily, but still lurked further away than Draco.  

"We didn't find out much this week, Father," Draco said, still surprised and confused, but going on with the routine anyway.  "Potter didn't do anything out of the ordinary this week and in The Key, they just kept teaching us lame curses that every Dark wizard has known since they were a child."

Lucius nodded.  "It does not matter.  We have found a passage into Hogwarts and are using it to get in.  Sunday, we will attack, and take over Hogwarts.  Then, we will begin our slow climb to our old position in the chain of command."

Hermione gasped and Draco looked stunned.  Lucius glanced at the two of them and scowled.  "I never thought you were a good candidate for a Death Eater," he shot at Hermione.  "This proves it."

"Good," she said, her voice shaking.  "I don't want to be a Death Eater, so that's a wonderful compliment."

Lucius ignored her.  "But you, Draco.  Surely, I assumed you would be happy about this.  It is what we have all been working towards for years!  You are not as disappointed as you look, are you?  You should not be disappointed at all if you are loyal."

"I am," Draco said, regaining some of his arrogance.  "It's great.  I was just surprised.  It's so soon . . . how did you find this passage?"

"Voldemort has gotten the dementors on our side once more and though we have not been able to reach the giants yet, we're sure they'll join us.  We've begun to recruit new—and old—people.  Then we captured a man who, under Veritaserum, told us of a secret passage into Hogwarts.  With two traitors in its ranks, The Key has been destroyed, though not even they realize it yet.  This is all we need.  And once we've taken over Hogwarts, we will be unstoppable."

"Who told you about the passages?" Draco asked again.

"Sirius Black," Lucius sneered.  "My old rival, and James Potter's best friend.  Been on the run, apparently, but we caught him before the Ministry.  I did enjoy torturing him, even more than I did the Mudblood there."

Hermione ignored his insult.  Sirius had been captured.  It was as painful as a physical blow.  No, he couldn't have been captured.  But he had.  And Hogwarts couldn't be in jeopardy.  But it was.  And she had to tell someone.  But she couldn't.  These were the contradictory statements that ran through her head every day—but it was worse than ever now.

Lucius dismissed them and Draco and Hermione walked back to the castle in silence.  Hermione was terrified and guilty.  She couldn't even warn Dumbledore that they were all about to be taken over.  What kind of Gryffindor was she?  She'd answered that question a while ago, though, when she'd first become a Death Eater.  Maybe at the beginning of the year she'd been like Godric Gryffindor, but she knew now that should she place the Sorting Hat on her head again, it would relate her to Salazar Slytherin.

Draco walked slow and let Hermione get ahead of him.  He couldn't believe that they were going to destroy Hogwarts.  He would stand with them of course—they were his people, his family.  Still, he was reluctant to see Hogwarts go.  For all its faults, it had provided a home for the past five years.  He stared at Hermione's back as she got further and further ahead of him.  At least she was being forced to do this.  She hadn't volunteered—like him.

Then he stopped dead.  What was he saying?  He'd always wanted to be a Death Eater, and people like Granger had always disgusted him.  His dream had always been to support Voldemort and become like his father.  He'd always longed for the day when Dark would conquer. Why were things so different now?  When—and how—had they changed in the first place?

***************

The next morning at breakfast, Harry and Ron joined Hermione in her silence, both in thought.  Both watched her inconspicuously throughout breakfast, though she acted like nothing was different.  If anything, she seemed much more withdrawn than usual and said not a word to anyone.  The surprise was to come from another source.

About halfway through breakfast, when the mail arrived, a large owl swooped down out of nowhere, dropped a letter on top of Harry's toast and then soared away again, not even giving Harry a chance to see it.  All he'd managed to be sure of was that it wasn't Hedwig, nor was it any other owl he knew.  He picked up the letter—which was now covered in oily, liquid butter—and read the front of it.  All it said was his name in bold letter and the words '_do_ _not_ _open_ _in_ _public_' under that.  Harry stared at it in confusion.

"Who sent it, Harry?" Ron asked.

"Dunno," Harry replied quietly, looking at the envelope.  "Doesn't say.  Just tells me to read it in private."

"Well, what are you waiting for?" Ron demanded.  "Go to the bathroom, read it, then come tell us."

He agreed with Ron.  The letter was so tempting, sitting there so innocently in his hands.  He wanted to read it badly for some reason—a reason which he could not put his finger on.  He supposed it was simply the allure that came from something with a feel of being forbidden.  He nodded and stood up, suddenly not hungry.  Hermione watched him with vague interest and their eyes met.  He could see something within their depths.  He could only see it for an instant, though, because she looked away soon after.  He was left trying to place it as he exited the Great Hall and headed toward the nearest bathroom.  At first, he'd assumed it was anguish.  Though that was similar, it wasn't quite the same.  It seemed that the more he tried to come up with it, the farther it slipped away.

Harry locked himself in a stall and dug his finger under the flap of the envelope, ripping the butter-coated paper as he went.  When he had it open, he pulled out a single, small, white sheet of paper and unfolded it.  It was written in the same boxlike, common script as his name had been.  The writing could have belonged to anyone.  He read it.

_Harry Potter,_

_    Get out of Hogwarts it is not safe for you there.  I know you will not believe me, but look at your friend Hermione Granger.  She is already a victim.  I know of your late-night excursions to discover her secret and I know you are already suspicious.   For more information,_

talk to Ginny Weasley and Hagrid.  Then decide if you believe me or not.  Do not talk to her.  She cannot tell you the truth and will lie or avoid you. Get out of Hogwarts if you value your life.  This is not a threat.  I'm trying to help you.  Let me, please.  And do not go to Sirius Black.  He is not in a position to help you now.  Seeking him out could cause deadly repercussions. 

He had to read it at least three times before it actually sunk in.  Who could be telling him to get out of Hogwarts?  Why?  Why didn't they just tell him why?  How had they known he'd followed Hermione?  How had they known about Hermione?  Why couldn't he go to Sirius?  Was he okay?

He stared blankly at the paper.  He was reminded strongly of Dobby, the house elf.  He'd tried and tried to convince Harry to leave Hogwarts, without telling him why he needed to.  In the end, Harry had stuck around and things had worked out, though very narrowly.  However, now that Voldemort had risen again, Harry decided to consider this a legitimate threat to look into.  Unfortunately, he was also suspicious of it.  What if it was one of the Death Eaters writing him this, telling him to get out so they _could_ capture him?  He felt the beginnings of a headache throb at his temple and he reached a hand up to massage it.  He wasn't sure what to make of this, but he decided not to tell Ron—and certainly not Hermione.  

Which brought up another issue—what the person had said about Hermione.  How was she a victim?  Why couldn't she tell him?  What did Ginny and Hagrid know?  Harry decided that this was the lead he had best pursue first.  He would talk to Ginny and Hagrid and see about all this.  Then, he'd try with that information to make a decision.  But he knew that if he left Hogwarts, Hermione and Ron were coming with him, regardless of the danger.  No one could talk him out of that.

He tucked the letter into his pocket and fabricated a lie, then walked out of the bathroom, composing himself quickly.  Hermione and Ron looked up as he got back.  He saw that odd glint in Hermione's eyes again and this time he wanted even more to figure out what it was.  Ron jumped on him immediately.

"Well?" Ron asked.  "What was the note?"

Harry sat down across from Ron and shrugged.  "Nothing big.  Just a note from Professor Figg talking to me about my grades.  Guess she didn't want me to be embarrassed, as she knows me better than the rest of the students."

Ron winced for his friend.  "Bad?"

Harry nodded, though he knew he was actually doing fine in Defense Against the Dark Arts.  "Way bad," he confirmed.  He looked to Hermione.  He knew the note had said not to ask her, but technically he wasn't.  He was just trying to get a reaction out of her.  "Hermione, you think you could help me out?  You're good in Figg's class and I just can't seem to get it.  Please?"

Hermione shook her head, picked up a napkin to wipe her mouth with and put down her fork.  "No, Harry, I'm sorry.  I can't.  I'm . . . very busy.  Besides, I'm sure it doesn't matter anyway."  She stood and walked quickly from the Great Hall.

"Yeah, I guess she's busy with all of those late night classes," Ron whispered to Harry, watching Hermione leave.  "But what's up with her saying classes don't matter?  Sure, she's been neglecting her work, but she's still never said that before.  That's totally unlike her."

"A lot of things are totally unlike her lately, Ron," Harry said quietly.  "I hate to say it, but I think there's grown to be quite a gap when it comes to what we know about Hermione and what we don't.  She's got a lot of secrets."

Ron nodded.  "Yeah.  I think you're right."

Harry sat there for a moment, staring at his plate and making up his mind.  Finally, he averted his gaze up at Ron.  "There's something I need to do," Harry said.  "I need to talk to Ginny."

Ron scowled.  "Ginny?  What've you got to talk to her for?"

"I'll . . . tell you later," Harry lied, as he glanced down Gryffindor table to see if Ginny was among those present.  She was not.  He stood up and walked out of the Great Hall, taking the same route Hermione had.  

Ron watched him go and sighed.  "There may be a lot of secrets between us and Hermione," he whispered to himself, "but I think there's just as many between you and me."

*****************

Harry reached the Gryffindor common room, but Ginny wasn't there.  He knocked on the door of the fourth year girls' dorm, but one of her friends—who, for some odd reason seemed to find it unbearably hilarious that Harry had knocked on their dormitory door—told him she wasn't there either.  He headed back down to the common room to wait, happy Hermione wasn't there either.  He didn't want her to get the idea that he was checking out her life.  He'd promised he wouldn't.  Unfortunately, that was also a promise he felt it was necessary to break.

About fifteen minutes later, Ginny walked in, talking to Colin Creevy.  The two walked right past Harry before he realized it was them and he jumped up.  "Ginny!" he cried in a voice unlike his.

Ginny and Colin turned to look at him.  Colin plastered on his usual awed grin and Ginny smiled at him a bit strangely.  "Hello, Harry," she said.  "Something I can do for you?"

"Uh, yeah actually.  I've been looking for you," Harry said.  He looked around.  "I need to talk to you, but not here.  Somewhere more private.  Please?  I promise it won't take long, but it's _really_ important."

Ginny nodded, looking serious.  "Okay," she agreed.  "See you later, Colin."  She and Harry walked back toward the portrait hole through which she'd just come, hearing Colin call after them, "Bye Harry!  Bye Ginny!" in his normal over-enthusiastic voice.

Harry led Ginny to the statue of the One-Eyed Witch, which covered the entrance to one of the passages into Hogwarts.  He opened the statue and pulled Ginny, who looked quite surprised, into the dark tunnel beyond, closing the passage behind them.  The two lit their wands, so that the darkness did not envelope them.

"I can't believe this," Ginny whispered in awe.  "Where did you find this, Harry?  Where does it go?"

"It leads into the basement of Honeydukes," Harry told her distractedly.  "I used it to go into Hogsmeade in third year when I wasn't allowed.  Fred and George showed it to me."  

Ginny grinned wryly.  "Figures it would be them.  So that's why they'd always disappear for an hour or two at Gryffindor parties and then come back with candy from Honeydukes!  This is cool.  Is this what you wanted to show me?"

"No," Harry said, turning serious again and sitting down on the stone floor, bracing his back against the wall.  "Not at all, though I wish it were.  I need to talk to you about Hermione."

He watched Ginny's reaction.  She immediately started to fidget and suddenly her awe of the tunnel vanished.  "Hermione?" she asked innocently.  "I don't know why you'd want to talk to me about her."

"I have reason to believe that you know something about her," Harry said vaguely.  "Something that could be making her act the way she has been.  Look, Ginny, if you know something, I need you to tell me.  It's important, a matter of safety.  You may have promised her, but I promised her I wouldn't poke into her life.  I've broken that promise because I care for her.  If you care, you'll do the same."

Ginny looked torn, but finally nodded, sitting down hard on the steps leading down to the stone floor of the tunnel.  Finally, she let it all loose in one breath.  "Okay.  Harry, I didn't understand it when I saw it.  She wouldn't tell me how it had happened or who did it, or anything, but I promised her I wouldn't tell.  I've been scared for her, though, ever since it happened."

"Whoa," Harry said gently.  "Easy, Gin.  Start from the beginning, because I have no idea what you're talking about."

Ginny sighed.  "Well, on the train back from Christmas holidays, we sat together.  She was quiet and I didn't understand why, but I didn't press her, figuring she was just upset still about her grandmother.  When the train was about to stop, I offered her one of my robes to change into because she didn't have any of her own.  The train lurched while she was putting it on and she fell.  The back of her shirt came up and . . ." Ginny trailed off.

Harry, whose stomach had tightened with Ginny's story and the grim sound of her voice, urged the girl to continue.  "Ginny, I know it's probably hard to tell, but I need to know.  You've made it this far."

Ginny nodded again.  "I saw a whole bunch of cuts and bruises and gashes.  The beginnings of a lot of scars.  I could hardly see her skin under it all.  Someone had to have beaten her badly to get that.  Whipped her, even!  She wouldn't tell me who did it.  She just made me promise not to tell."

Harry closed his eyes, letting out a breath he'd been holding in resignation.  He'd been praying that Hermione had not been hurt.  Apparently that prayer had not been answered.  At least now he knew what the note meant when it said Hermione was a victim.  She must have gotten hurt over the holidays.  Anger burned to life inside him, a desire to hurt the person who'd had the audacity to hurt her.

"Oh, Merlin . . . oh, God . . .oh, Merlin," he groaned in agony, rubbing his eyes in agony.  "Why her?  Why can't they just take me?  I'm the one they hate.  Why did they have to hurt her?  Why do they always have to hurt the people I love?"  

"You think it was You-Know-Who?" Ginny asked in a choked voice.  "I . . . I thought it might have been someone in her family, I didn't think . . ."

"I do think," Harry said bitterly.  "More than that, I know.  Who else?  I don't think it's her family.  I don't have much to go on except instinct and hunches, so this is all guesswork, but I think I'm right.  Thank you, Ginny.  I've got to talk to someone else now about the same thing.  Look, don't tell anyone, including Ron, about this, okay?"

"You won't tell Hermione, will you?" Ginny asked.

"I might have to eventually," Harry warned.  "But not now, no.  Really, it depends on what I find out from who I'm going to see.  And don't tell anyone about this passage, either."

Ginny agreed and the two left the passage.  Harry turned from Ginny to start down the hall, but she caught his arm.  When he turned to look at her, she looked frightened.  "Harry, do you think anything else has happened to her we don't know about?"

"I hope not," Harry said.  "But it's possible, yes."

Ginny winced and bit her bottom lip.  "What are we going to do?  If it's You-Know-Who, it's even worse.  How can we stop this?"

Harry tried to think of something to say that would reassure her, but he just shook his head.  "I don't know, Ginny," he said helplessly.  "I hate it, but I have no idea."

After Ginny and Harry parted, Harry immediately headed down to Hagrid's.  He pulled out his note and read it again on the way down.  There were still many mysteries, but some answers were beginning to be revealed too.  But now he had to wonder—who knew about what happened with Ginny and Hermione on the train?  They were alone, she'd said.  Who could have seen to write the note?

Before he even had time to think about it, he had reached Hagrid's door and was knocking.  Instantly, the door was pulled open.  Hagrid looked down on Harry and nodded.  "Come in, come in," he greeted, though he didn't seem as cheery as usual.

Harry, who felt pretty depressed himself, entered the hut.  He patted Fang's head and stood with the dog at his side while Hagrid bustled about in his tiny kitchen with a tea kettle.  Harry watched in silence until Hagrid had poured them two cups of tea.  Harry was not thirsty, but he appreciated the gesture anyway.  When the cups were down, Harry came over and sat down at the table.  Fang followed him and rested his wrinkled, slobbery chin on Harry's leg, looking up at him with his great puppy eyes.

"What brings yeh here, Harry?" Hagrid asked.  "Haven' seen yeh in a while outside o' class."

"Yeah, I've been busy," he said.  "Look, Hagrid, I'm going to cut right to the chase here.  I'm not here on social terms, I'm afraid.  I need to know if you know anything about Hermione."

Hagrid looked at him sharply.  "Do you?" he asked immediately, and Harry could tell Hagrid was worried too.

"Maybe," Harry said evasively.  "But I know you know something that I need to know as well.  I'll tell you what I know if you do me the same favor—first."  Harry hated blackmailing Hagrid in such a way with information, but he forced the thoughts from his mind.  It was necessary and if Hagrid knew anything like what Harry knew, than he'd understand too.

Hagrid stared at him.  "I'm sorry, Harry, but I can' do tha'.  Not unless I know wha' you know firs'."

Harry sighed and nodded.  He knew Hagrid wouldn't change his mind and he couldn't bring himself to argue.  "Fine.  I know that she sneaks out of Gryffindor every other night to meet in Dumbledore's office with Malfoy, Justin, and some first year, for some reason.  I know that she's been acting very weird.  I know she's been hurt badly enough to have a mass of scars and abrasions on her back."  He had not meant to be so short, but he did not want to go into detail.

Hagrid appeared stunned and angry.  "Wha'?" he gasped.  "Who hurt her?  Why didn' she tell us?"

Harry shrugged.  "I dunno.  I just learned about that from Ginny.  Someone hurt her bad, though,  and she might still be in danger.  I'm positive it's the work of Death Eaters.  I need to know anything you know about this.  Please, Hagrid."

Hagrid was angry, Harry could tell that from the way his shaggy beard was blowing with his short, ragged breaths and his face was red under his black hair.  Harry also knew that Hagrid was not mad at him.  "I knew summat was wrong with her.  I asked her abou' it when her grades started ter slip.  Wouldn' tell me nothin', she wouldn'.  Started cryin' almos', though, and ran out so I wouldn' see.  Those damn Death Eaters!"  He pounded his fist against the table, making it wobble.  "Probably too scared to say a word.  Know I would be."

"What else, Hagrid?  What else do you know?" Harry asked, desperate now. 

Hagrid began to look uncomfortable.  "Don' think I can tell yeh tha', Harry," he said.  "Promised Dumbledore.  Safety purposes, yeh gotta understand—"

"I don't understand, and I can't unless you tell me!" Harry cried.  "You know you can trust me.  I won't tell a soul.  Look, Hermione's my best friend.  Someone's hurt her badly.  I've got to find out what's going on with her and whatever you know is a big piece of the puzzle."

"I know I can trust yeh.  It's jus' dangerous in case someone migh' use Veritaserum or somethin', an' yeh wouldn' even know wha' yeh were sayin'.  Yeh can' accidentally slip somethin' yeh didn' know in the firs' place."

Hagrid stared at Harry's disappointed face and his resolve began to melt.  "Look, if I tell yeh, yeh can' tell anyone yeh heard it from me.  An' the on'y reason I'm breakin' me promise ter Dumbledore is fer Hermione.  I'm not gonna let anyone hurt her and if anyone can help her, it'll be you.  So I'll tell yeh.  But I'll need ter tell Dumbledore wha' yeh told me."  

Harry nodded.  "I promise."

Hagrid explained to Harry about The Key and how Hermione and the other students were the members.  He explained in such great detail that it took almost fifteen minutes.  When Hagrid was finally done, Harry was sitting still in his chair, mentally putting everything he had learned together. 

"You're right," Harry said finally.  "Hermione's not just acting this way because of this resistance thing.  It's something else.  Whatever happened to hurt her is part of it, but not the whole thing, I don't think.  Hagrid, I have to ask you—please, don't tell Dumbledore what I told you.  Just give it twenty-four hours, okay?  What can happen in twenty-four hours?"

"A lot," Hagrid replied shortly.  "But yeah, I'll wait."

Hagrid and Harry said their goodbyes and Harry left.  He walked slowly back to the castle, trying to get a grasp on everything he had learned.  How could so much have happened to Hermione and he had not even known of it until this moment?  Some friend he was.

As he walked, an familiar owl flew over his head.  Harry looked up and recognized the owl as the one that had dropped the first letter that morning.  This time, the owl did the same thing, dropping a letter and taking off quickly into the sky.  Harry watched it disappear over the Forbidden Forest, then knelt and picked up the letter where the bird had dropped it.  He pulled the note out immediately this time, regardless of the '_read_ _in_ _private_' warning.  

_Harry_,

    _Believe_ _me_ _now?  Get out.  Don't take Hermione—it'll endanger both your lives.  Don't take Ron, either.  Just go.  Your life is in danger here.  Hermione is safe, despite her troubles.  She will not be in danger from the coming threat.  The best thing for you to do for her is to leave.  She'll want you alive when this is all over.  Go soon or you will have no chance at all.  Twenty-four hours to escape.  Don't say anything about this to anyone._

Harry looked around himself, suddenly very self-conscious and frightened.  Whoever this was was watching him right now.  They'd seen him go into Hagrid's and come out.  He hurried back to the castle, contemplating the new letter now.  Why was Hermione safe?  She was the one in the most danger, he'd have assumed.  However, up until this point the letter-writer had been truthful.  He couldn't just leave Hogwarts though, at the behest of some mysterious watcher.  What did it mean, twenty-four hours?  He had that long to leave?  What was going on?

************

Later that night, in his dorm, Harry was packing some books, clothes and his wand in a bag.  He had decided that he would not leave Hogwarts—but he wouldn't stay either.  He would hide out in the passage that Fred and George had told him had caved in partway through.  He'd have a section of cleared tunnel in the beginning where he could hide and no one could get in from the other end.  He'd wait a day, then poke his head out and see what was happening.  If nothing had happened, then he'd know that this was all a big lie.  If it wasn't, then he'd find another way out.

He hefted his bag over his shoulder, threw his Invisibility Cloak on and clutched the Marauder's Map tightly with the other.  He would need them to make it to his destination.

Harry took a glance back at the Gryffindor common room and had a strange premonition that it would be his last for a while.  He shook it off, feeling that it was nothing.  He made his way to the tunnel, dropped his bag off, then made his way back to the kitchens to collect some food from the house elves for the next day.  He hoped that it all wasn't a lie and that he wasn't doing this for nothing. But even more so, he hoped that it all was just nothing.

                        *                                               *                                               *

Hermione was in a silent panic.  She'd barely spoken since learning of Voldemort's plans for Hogwarts and had locked herself in her room, trying to figure out some way to stop him.  She'd never been in a more impossible situation.  There appeared to truly be no way out—for her or for the Light side.  She couldn't find any way to tell anyone, to warn them.  And even if her friends began to investigate at this point, it would be too late.  What hurt most was that she could not help her friends.  When Hogwarts was taken over, Voldemort would kill Harry.  She felt tears in her eyes just at the thought.  The worst part was that she had enabled them to do this.  And she hated herself for it.

When Sunday rolled around, Hermione could no longer take the guilt and anxiety.  She had been pacing around her room all morning until Lavender had snapped at her to stop and threatened to curse her if she didn't, so Hermione went down to the grounds.  She walked in the fresh morning air for about ten minutes, still trying to think of some way out.  The only people she could tell were Draco—who would be absolutely no help at all—and Snape.  Snape had the curse on him so that he couldn't tell Dumbledore certain things, so that wouldn't work.  Her footsteps slowed.  But what if it did?  What if she overlooked that possibility and wrote it off when she could have helped?  She had to try.  What damage would it do if she was wrong?  Certainly it wouldn't put them in a worse predicament.

She turned and ran back into the castle.  Her feet flew faster than they ever had as she pushed past students and even teachers, to get down to the dungeons.  Snape's classroom was open, but he was nowhere to be seen.  Hermione went over to his office, which branched off of the room and peered in through the tiny window of the closed door.  Snape was sitting at his desk, writing furiously with his quill.

Hermione raised her fists and pounded on his door, not stopping until he'd opened it, looking angry and shocked.  "Miss Granger!" he cried in a voice that said he was barely managing to control himself.

"Sorry, Professor, but I really need to talk—"

"No matter what you may '_need'_ to speak with me about, pounding on my door as though the world is about to end is certainly not an appropriate way to get my attention!" Snape snarled.

"That's just it, sir," Hermione said in a choked voice.  "Our world may just be ending."

Snape studied her for a moment, appearing to consider her words.  "Is this about . . . ?" He trailed off, leaving the question unfinished, but Hermione did not need him to finish.  She nodded vigorously.

Snape looked around his empty classroom, as though people were leaning in to hear their every word.  "Well, come in, come in," he said in a very uninviting voice, opening the door wider so she could enter.  She hurried in and he closed the door behind them, once more performing a Silencing Charm.

  
He turned to her with a sour expression.  "Did I not tell you that you were not allowed to speak with me about this unless I summoned you?"

"Yes, you did, but I had to talk to you!  You're my last hope—everyone's last hope!" she cried, falling back into the chair in front of his desk.  She buried her face in her hands for a moment, then spoke through them in a muffled voice, "I can't tell anyone and it's terrible.  You have to help me."

"Help you do what?" Snape asked, looking as though he did not care at all that Hermione was about to cry.

Hermione looked up. "They—Voldemort and the Death Eaters—are attacking Hogwarts.  Today!  Lucius Malfoy told Draco and I at our report Friday," she said in a weak, helpless voice.  "They're going to take over.  I can't tell anyone.  I've tried and tried, but the spell prevents it.   I know you have a spell on you too, but can't you try—"

"They are attacking?  Damn them, why didn't they inform me?" he asked in horror.  "You foolish girl, why didn't you come to me sooner?!  I can find a way to warn Dumbledore, some way, and yet you just kept it secret?  I can't believe you!"

Hermione tried to reply, but ended up just shaking her head.  "What can we do?" she whispered finally.

"Tell the headmaster," he snapped.  "Go back to Gryffindor and try to get people to stay there. You aren't in danger if they come.  Your classmates are."  Snape left the room quickly, leaving Hermione sitting in his chair, unmoving.

"It won't work," she whispered to no one.  "I've already tried."

Dejected, but feeling just a shard of hope that Snape might be able to do something, Hermione trudged back up the stairs toward Gryffindor.  She hadn't seen Harry all day and the last time she'd seen Ron, he'd been beating his sister in wizard's chess and wondering aloud where Harry could be.  At the very least, she'd try to warn him.  She'd at least get him to stay in Gryffindor Tower.

Just as she was giving the Fat Lady the password, it swung open from the other side and Ron stepped out.  "Hey," he said to her.  

"Ron!" she cried.  "Uh . . . play me in wizard's chess?" she said, thinking up an excuse to get him to go back into Gryffindor Tower.  

Ron gave her a funny look.  "Sure, but some other time, okay?  I just played Seamus.  I want to look for Harry.  I swear, the boy's disappeared off of the face of the planet . . ."

"I just saw him," she lied quickly.  "Said he was going to Hagrid's."

"Oh.  Want to join him, then?" Ron asked and shrugged past Hermione.

"Not in particular," Hermione said.  "I was wondering if maybe you'd like to do something fun.  I'm bored.  Let's have an adventure!"

Now Ron was looking at her as though she'd gone crazy.  "Hermione, are you feeling all right?  An _adventure_?"

"Well . . . not really.  I was just thinking that maybe the two of us could sneak into Hogsmeade.  You know, go down one of the passages and hang out there for the day.  Could be fun."

"Fun?  You're crazy," he proclaimed, shaking his head.  "Honestly, you're a raving lunatic.  We'd be caught in two seconds.  It's broad daylight.  And what's up with you?  You've been quiet and off for weeks, and now you want to sneak into Hogsmeade?  What you _should_ do is pay a visit to Madam Pomfrey.  Maybe she can see whose spirit your channeling, because the spirit of Hermione Granger has gone on a long vacation." He walked past her and started down the hall. 

"Ron!" she yelled desperately, jogging after him, when suddenly, an explosion shook the ground under their feet.  Hermione fell into a wall and Ron was thrown to the floor.  They could hear screams echoing up from the bottom floors.  _No!_ she thought in horror.  _Not already!  Snape won't have had time to warn Dumbledore.  Oh, no . . ._

Ron was struggling to his feet, looking scared and shocked.  "What's going on, Hermione?" he cried over the screams.  Hermione ran to him.

"Please, Ron, come with me to Hogsmeade," she begged, on the verge of tears.  She couldn't even tell him that they had to go because it wasn't safe.  She couldn't tell him anything.

"Hermione, not now!  We've got to find out what's going on down there!  Harry could be hurt.  Other people could be hurt.  We could be in danger," Ron said, hurrying toward the stairs.

"No, Ron!" she yelled, running after him.  

Out of nowhere, five men appeared from around a corner.  Hermione and Ron paused and stared.  Hermione knew them immediately to be Death Eaters.  She knew they probably knew of her status within their ranks, but they would probably show no recognition of it.  And while they might be less inclined to hurt her, Ron was in danger.

They were on top of them before either could say a word.  Ron was screaming and struggling against the two Death Eaters holding him.  Hermione was frozen in place, not knowing what to do.  She could hear Ron yelling to her to run, but she didn't move.  Another Death Eater grabbed her a minute later and they were shoved down the stairs.  

The Death Eaters led them to the Great Hall, where they snapped at them to sit down.  Not too many people were in there, but more were coming by the minute.  At least fifty Death Eaters were surrounding the student tables, wands at the ready.  Kids and teachers were sitting down at their tables, shaking and crying in confusion.  Ron and Hermione were shoved down at the Gryffindor table beside Professor McGonagall, who was still as a statue and apparently in shock.

While Ron tried to get McGonagall's attention, Hermione sat silently, staring straight ahead and watching black-robed Death Eaters push struggling, sobbing students in to the Hall.  She had done all this.  If only she hadn't been so naïve.  These were her classmates, her friends, her teachers, and she was at fault for them all being captured and for the Death Eaters getting in.  A small voice in her told her she was wrong but she did not listen.  It was her fault, no matter what anyone had to say in the contrary.

Ron had succeeded in getting McGonagall to snap out of her stupor.  "Oh, Mr. Weasley, Miss Granger," she moaned, shaking her head.  "It is the Death Eaters.  They've gotten in!  This is the end of us."

"No, it's not!" Ron argued.  "We can get out of this."

"I do hope you're right, Mr. Weasley," McGonagall said, sighing, but looking bleak.

Hermione echoed the same words silently, but had no hope left to put into them.

They sat for at least two hours.  Within the first hour, most students were rounded up and brought into the Great Hall.  The tables were full as though it were a meal, but there was no food on the tables, no decorations and no happy conversations and laughter.  The Death Eaters had transformed the curtains with the school coat of arms and house symbols into black drapes and the High table was filled not with teachers, but with robed Death Eaters.  All the chairs were full, except for one in the middle where Dumbledore usually sat.  Hermione had no doubt who would take that seat.

All of the teachers had been brought in and Hermione saw that most all of her classmates were at her table, with the exception of Harry.  _Maybe he's escaped,_ she thought silently.  She didn't know why he would, but maybe he'd found out about the coming attack and had run.  But he would have told Dumbledore, not just abandoned everyone . . .

A door slammed shut and all focus turned to a tall, hooded figure that was breezing into the room.  Everyone's words were doused and eyes followed the figure as it walked up the steps to the High Table and stood behind the empty chair.  Slowly, it reached up and pulled down its hood.

Screams echoed in the Hall.  "It's _him_!" Ron yelled in horror to Hermione.  "It's You-Know-Who!"

Hermione sat in silence, not looking at Voldemort or Ron or anyone.  She made no sound and did not move, frozen by the horror of the situation.  

Slowly, with yells from the Death Eaters, the screams diminished, but everyone's focus and panic was still on Voldemort, who had not said a word.  Finally, when silence overcame the Hall again, he spoke, his voice low and menacing.

"So this is what Hogwarts has become," he said, eyeing them all in disgust.  "A bunch of whimpering, passive, impure children.  It's pathetic.  Even more pathetic is how easy this was.  I feel that you deserve to know how this came to be, as it's your lives that will suffer because of it.  I found a passage into the school from an informant and we used that to come in.  The explosion damaged nothing—it was simply an announcement of our arrival.  Death Eaters are still rounding up those students who have managed to elude us so far.  They will be killed immediately.  So far, five students and one teacher are dead."

More groans and sobs echoed from the tables.  "Here are the terms of the new school order.  All students born to even one Muggle are to be killed immediately."

This time, there were screams again.  Ron put his arm around Hermione protectively and told her fiercely, "You'll be okay.  I won't let him touch you."  Hermione felt tears sliding down her cheeks as she leaned against him, so drained that it was a relief to sink against somebody.  Ron had no way of knowing that she was the one Muggle-born in the school that was not in danger of dying.  And he had no reason to think that she would trade places with any other Muggle-born without hesitation.

"All Slytherin students and other purebloods who wish to serve us will be sworn into the ranks of Death Eaters.  Those purebloods who oppose will also be killed.  All teachers will be kept on as slaves or used for information.  We will use this as a school for Death Eater training and also as a jail for prisoners.  

"Now, as you know what will become of you and your school, I want to bring forth a few people.  Severus Snape, Draco Malfoy, and Hermione Granger, come up here now."

Hermione gasped.  Voldemort was going to reveal them all as traitors in front of the entire school!  Ron misunderstood her gasp.  "Hermione, don't go," he begged.  "He'll kill you, please!"

Hermione stood, ignoring Ron's words.  He watched her, speechless.  "You should have gone with me to Hogsmeade, Ron," she whispered, the only way she had of telling him she had tried and that she was sorry.

"Yeah," he said dejectedly.  "Yeah, I should have."  

Hermione turned her head away and walked up to the high table, ignoring Ron's shouts for her not to go.  She could feel the eyes on her.

Voldemort began to speak again.  "I would like to thank the people responsible for making all this possible for me.  Snape, Malfoy, Granger, show them the truth."

For a moment, Hermione did not understand what he meant and then she saw Snape and Malfoy lifting up their left sleeves to display the Mark to the school.  She knew she didn't have a choice and bit her bottom lip.  This couldn't be happening.  She rolled up her left sleeve and the Dark Mark was revealed, burned black as coal into her skin.

Gasps came from everywhere and she knew they were mostly directed at her.  It was no surprise for anyone that Malfoy was a Death Eater and most weren't all that surprised about Snape either.  But everyone knew of Hermione Granger, Harry Potter's friend, Gryffindor, and smartest student in the school.  The fact that she was a Death Eater must have taken everyone by surprise.  She kept her eyes directed at the floor, unable to make eye contact with any of them.  Finally, she knew she couldn't hide from them any longer and looked up.

She wished she hadn't.  She could see Ron, devastated and shocked at Gryffindor table.  He was shaking his head back and forth and she could see his mouth forming the word '_no_' over and over.  McGonagall was staring at her in unconcealed confusion and Ginny was crying, having a similar reaction to her brother's.  All of Gryffindor looked nothing but shocked.  She could see Justin at Hufflepuff table staring at her without expression, apparently in shock.  Jenna, at Ravenclaw looked betrayed and angry.  Even Slytherin students were shocked that she was a Death Eater.  She tried to look away, but her eyes locked with Hagrid's whose expression was perhaps the worst of all.  He looked confused, betrayed, and shocked as well, but he also looked disappointed.  Disappointed in her for betraying them all.  All the times he'd tried to find out what was wrong with her, and in the end, he found out she was a Death Eater.  She looked back down at the floor.

"Draco Malfoy and Hermione Granger were members of a group Dumbledore called The Key, a group of children chosen to defend the Light side.  It has been destroyed now, thanks to them.  Had it stayed strong, we would not be here.  So, you can thank them for all of this.  Let's have a round of applause, shall we?"  Death Eaters everywhere in the room laughed and clapped.

She wanted to cry and to run away, but she could not.  She was stuck there with the other Death Eaters, who were also watching her.  She was one of them now.  She could already feel her separation from the rest of her former classmates.  Even if she found a way to make all this end now, it was too late for her to ever regain her old life.  Now it wasn't just the Death Eaters, Snape, and her who knew the truth—it was all of Hogwarts.  Her life had truly ended and there was no looking back.

************

Harry watched all of this from a doorway.  He was hiding in the hall.  He had come out from his hiding place in the tunnel as soon as he'd heard the explosion and had been eluding Death Eaters since.  He watched Hermione and felt betrayed and shocked.  He'd cared about her, had tried so many times to help her.  In all actuality, she was a Death Eater.  Now, there was no denying that truth.  The Dark Mark did not lie.

Harry finally placed the look in Hermione's eyes that one morning.  It had been guilt.  And now he understood why.


	11. Destiny's Changes

A/n: Thank you to all the wonderful reviewers! Here you go! I'll try to get two more out before the shutting down of fanfiction.net on the 14th and 15th. At least there will be an original-only site, now. Maybe I'll get more reviews on my one original fic, Under Stone Eyes. (Just a little bit of self-promotion, there. When you have two chapters up and three reviews, ya get discouraged.) As a side note, I got an 88 on my French test today! I'm very happy as the first time I took the test I got a 68-which, sadly, was one of the top scores for any class, hence the reason the teacher let us all redo it.  
  
"A constant wave of tension on top of broken trust. The lessons that you taught me I learn were never true Now I find myself in question." --Linkin Park  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
Chapter Eleven: Destiny's Changes  
  
Hermione remained silent and still beside her foes at the High Table, staring at her shoes and praying that somehow, someway, something would happen to prevent the massacre that was about to occur. Please, she begged to some higher power, praying that for once she would be heard, please stop this. I know I can't help myself, but get my friends out of this.  
  
She was jerked from her prayers by a voice yelling, "Hermione, no! Please say this is all some sort of misunderstanding!" Her head snapped up and she saw Ron standing up, looking scared, confused, and horrified. She wanted desperately to yell to him to sit down, to avoid being hurt, but the spell Voldemort had placed on her was still active as ever and it kept her from saying anything to protect him.  
  
Voldemort's head swiveled to face Ron, who took no notice, as he was too busy staring at Hermione. "Foolish boy!" roared Voldemort and Ron looked over at Voldemort angrily. "You dare to speak to a Death Eater? You dare to be so brash and obvious about such a crime?"  
  
"You!" growled Ron. Hermione stared. What's he doing? He's lost it! Indeed, it appeared he had. His eyes contained a wild, burning rage. She could see him trembling in anger even from her distance and could see the white tone to his skin. His eyes were bulging unnaturally. "This is your fault, I know it! You made Hermione do this. Leave her alone! Don't go anywhere near her!"  
  
Voldemort stared and Hermione felt her throat go tight in terror. He was going to kill Ron! She opened her mouth, but closed it again. She knew she would not even be able to say anything in protest.  
  
"You are truly a fool," said Voldemort, his snake eyes narrowed dangerously. Ron showed no signs of backing down. He was standing straight and proud, angrily facing a sight most people would have fainted at seeing. "I shall teach you. Not Avada Kedavera-you will not be granted the privilege of a quick and painless death. You will be locked up. Crucio!"  
  
Ron fell to the floor screaming and Hermione, too, broke from her trance. "RON!" she screamed. "Ron, no!" She knew Voldemort was watching her, knew she was taking her life into her hands, but did not care. She'd stopped caring for her life a while ago. She started to run down the steps leading up to the High Table. All she could think of was getting to Ron, who had now stopped screaming and lay panting on the floor by Gryffindor Table. Everyone else was too scared to move towards him, to move at all. The only sound came from Ginny's screaming sobs as she stared at her fallen brother in terror. It was as though she was in a still photograph and she was the only thing that could move.  
  
Until Voldemort moved. "No, you don't!" he howled. "CRUCIO!"  
  
Hermione also fell, but this time felt no remorse for trying to get to Ron. Perhaps if the pain had not confused her senses, she'd have heard Hagrid, Ginny, and most of the rest of Gryffindor table gasp or cry out in horror and fright for her. Perhaps she'd have known that they did not blame her. But by the time that the pain had ended, silence had fallen once more.  
  
Even after the pain had ended and she was on her knees crying, she knew of only one desire-to get Ron and escape. She'd stayed strong and put up with everything for long enough. She couldn't do it anymore. She started to get up, but Ron's shout stopped her.  
  
"NO! Hermione, stay put," Ron begged her from where he was. The anger in his eyes had receded. As he looked at her, she could see no more than painful regret. For a moment, their eyes locked and the world seemed to evaporate. Ron could see the terror and pain in Hermione's eyes-could see a broken look in them he'd never thought he'd see. Hermione could see Ron's fear and sympathy for her, could see all the strength it was taking him to stay where he was.  
  
"Yes," Voldemort whispered menacingly, walking slowly over to where Hermione was. "Do stay put. We would not want any accidents to result from your lack of disobedience, would we?" Hermione, frozen in fear, but still in a mental state of panic, remained where she was.  
  
Hermione did not move and held her eye contact with Ron. She did not know how he felt about her right then, whether he was angry or hated her or didn't care, but she was glad he cared enough to try to help her. She wasn't sure how exactly he could have enough forgiveness in him to forgive her. She saw his eyes widen and they moved to look at something looming behind her. Hermione saw a shadow on the floor in front of her and tensed, knowing who it would be.  
  
A moment later, Voldemort's cold, long-fingered, pasty hands rapped themselves around her arms. Hermione let a sob escape her lips. I can't take this anymore . . . she thought, panicked. He jerked her to her feet and she cried out in protest and fear. Ron was watching the whole scene, looking livid and worried.  
  
"I know you are not loyal to me," he hissed at her so that only she could hear, "but you had better do as I say or else your life will become quite miserable indeed."  
  
"My life is miserable. Dying is what I want," she replied defiantly, not looking him in the face.  
  
"Who said anything about death? Now go!" He shoved her back up the steps toward Malfoy and Snape. She stumbled and fell, and suddenly had no desire to get up. Why should she? To face everyone and to do Voldemort's bidding? No. She'd had enough. If they wanted her to get up, they'd have to force her.  
  
They did. She'd only been lying on the steps panting and crying for a minute when a pair of hands grabbed her and jerked her to her feet. Hermione stumbled up and saw it was Draco who'd pulled her to her feet. She pulled her arm away. "Get off," she snarled in a low voice so no one else could overhear.  
  
"Do you want to die?" he replied in annoyance.  
  
She mistook his words for a threat. "Yes. Kill me, Malfoy. You'd be doing me a favor," she told him truthfully, her eyes daring him to do what the spell prevented her from doing herself.  
  
"I'm not going to kill anybody," he snapped, averting his eyes a little. "But Voldemort will if you stay down there. There's no guarantee he'll kill you though-probably just torture you. And I know you don't want that."  
  
Hermione opened her mouth to reply, but Voldemort had begun speaking once again and everyone fell silent. Hermione turned her back on Malfoy, blinking the tears from her eyes and regaining control over herself.  
  
"Now you see what will happen if you defy me. And you see what happens when you join me. There is no escape. Think about that, because you will be forced to make such a decision shortly. Do not make the wrong-"  
  
A deafening roar filled the room, cutting off Voldemort and turning everyone's heads. The sound was gone a moment later, but then the word, "STUPEFY!" rang out thunderously through the Great Hall. Three Death Eaters guarding the door leading out to the entrance of the school fell hard to the stone floor. Again, the word rang out and more men fell.  
  
The Death Eaters stood staring. Voldemort roared, "WHO IS RESPONSIBLE FOR THIS ACT OF DEFIANCE?!"  
  
"I am."  
  
Through the doorway stepped Harry, his wand held firmly in his right hand. "Everyone, run!" he yelled and turned his wand on the Death Eaters against the far door. He managed to perform the spell one more time before he dove under a table to avoid the same curse sent at him by a Death Eater. This was the last moment of shocked stillness.  
  
Pandemonium broke out. Kids and teachers jumped from tables and ran, screaming, toward one of the exits. Everyone's wands had been confiscated upon their arrival in the Great Hall, so they were left with no defense. Death Eaters were swarming the unblocked exits and Voldemort was yelling angrily at the top of his lungs. Hermione, Draco, and Snape stood stationary on the High Table, the only ones not moving, staring at the insanity going on below them. Harry continued to aim the Stunning spell at every Death Eater he saw, but more and more were firing at him and he was becoming more and more trapped.  
  
Many lucky students had managed to break from the Great Hall and were stampeding from the school as fast as they could. The Death Eaters were having quite a hard time stopping them, because they would get run down by all the kids if they stepped in. Hermione scanned the sea of insanity for her friends and spotted Harry, ducked under Hufflepuff table, unseen by any Death Eaters for the moment. Ron was trying to jerk Ginny who apparently was in severe shock, with him toward an exit, but he was quickly becoming more and more exposed and a much easier target. Without their wands, Ron and Ginny were trapped.  
  
Hermione tucked a hand into the pocket of her robes and fingered her wand. It was her last hope, her only chance of escape. Without it, she was truly lost. If she lost it willingly, Voldemort would not replace it. But if she didn't give it up, two of her best friends were sure to die. And she knew, whether she chose to admit it to herself or not, that her time was limited no matter her decision. She may die, but she would do everything she could to assure her friends did not meet the same fate. Before Voldemort or Draco could stop her, she pulled it out.  
  
"Ron!" Hermione yelled and he looked up at her. She threw him the wand and he caught it, looking stunned and stopping to stare at her. "Take it and get Ginny and Harry out!"  
  
She was surprised the spell Voldemort had placed on her allowed her to do that much. Perhaps it was wearing off, little by little. She did not know, nor did she care, as long as Ron escaped.  
  
She could not hear him over the deafening roar of shouts and screamed, but she saw him mouth the words, "What about you?"  
  
Hermione shook her head and looked away. "Go," she whispered, knowing he would read her lips and that he probably would not hear her anymore than she had heard him. "Leave me."  
  
At that moment, Ginny appeared to become more focused and Ron jerked her to her feet. Harry had made it to Gryffindor table, where he was now hiding, and he notified Ron of this by tugging at his robes. Both boys now wielding wands, they headed toward one of the exits. Hermione noticed Harry clutching his scar and he appeared to be in great agony. Most kids were gone by now, though many unlucky ones were lying on the floor, stunned, or were being held by Death Eaters. The fewer kids there were, the harder it was for Harry and Ron to escape. No longer was there as much cover.  
  
Voldemort himself was now aiming spells at the two. Hermione had never seen his eyes look more maddeningly red. Harry was sending his own spells back at Voldemort, but all missed or were blocked. Finally, though, one of the spells hit Ginny. It was the Stunning Spell, so she dropped to the floor, unconscious. Ron tried to lift his little sister, but she was too heavy for him. Harry had to tackle Ron to the floor to keep him from getting hit with the Cruciatus Curse.  
  
"Use the levitation spell on her," Hermione whispered to herself. "Come on, guys."  
  
She felt something jab her hand and looked down. It was Draco's wand. She pulled her hand away, not even bothering to give him a dirty look. Again, the wand poked her, and she looked at him. He stared at her blankly. Hermione began to comprehend him and looked down at the wand-which was held out of the side of his hand in a secretive way, pointing right at her-then back up at him.  
  
"Take it," he whispered, then turned his focus once more to the pandemonium.  
  
Hermione was wary of a trick, but grabbed the wand anyway, knowing it was her one chance. She tucked it inside her robes. She could not use it against anyone here and there was nothing she could do to help Harry, Ron, and Ginny. However, there might be a chance for her to use it to help herself later.  
  
Harry had woken Ginny, and Ron and his sister were running from the door toward the outside when she looked again. Harry hesitated at the door and looked back at her. He was risking his life standing there motionless for more than a moment, but he did not seem to care. Hermione felt self- conscious and horrible under his gaze.  
  
"I'm sorry," she mouthed, fighting hard not to look away from him. She couldn't fight the silent tears that streamed down her face.  
  
Harry nodded. "We'll come back for you!" he yelled, and as the pandemonium was dying, she heard him, faintly. He turned and ran from the door, and Voldemort's spell hit the doorframe, instead of Harry.  
  
She felt frightened, his words echoing over and over in her head. She knew he would come back. Don't do it, Harry, she thought. Don't be stupid. There's nothing you can do for me.  
  
But she knew he would come anyway.  
  
******************  
  
Harry and Ron ran out of the school and onto the grounds, desperate to get away from Voldemort and the destruction of the Great Hall. Ginny was still needing to be pushed along by Ron, still appearing to be deep in shock.  
  
"Where do we go?" Ron gasped to Harry. "There's no place safe!"  
  
"The forest," said Harry determinedly, speaking through teeth gritted with pain. His scar was burning worse than he'd ever felt it. The only thing fighting off the pain enough to keep him standing was the adrenaline coursing through his veins. "Safest for now. We'll hide there until it gets dark or the Death Eaters leave, then we'll sneak into Hogsmeade and get some people who will be willing to help us."  
  
"Help us do what?" asked Ron incredulously.  
  
"Save Hermione," replied Harry shortly, and Ron could tell that even if he'd wanted to, there would be no reasoning with Harry on this subject. Both boys turned to look back at their school, at the blown out windows and Death Eaters running from the door, at the spells flying. And worst of all, at the green Dark Mark hovering menacingly over it.  
  
Together, they turned and raced toward the forest, their last chance for survival.  
  
********************  
  
"LOOK AT THIS! ALL POTTER! Once again he has ruined everything!"  
  
The Great Hall was in shambles. The tables that had once stood so elegantly were now burned and broken, the Ravenclaw table split right at the middle. There were burns and singe-marks on the walls, and holes in the draperies. The floor was littered with dust, debris, and blood. Death Eaters ran everywhere and Voldemort was yelling in a way to make everyone fear for their lives. The beautiful satin banners that had once hung along the walls, each depicting the colors and animal of their respective house, were now in various states of disrepair. The Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw banners were singed and torn in places, hanging limp. The Gryffindor banner had been ripped entirely in two. Only half remained hanging dismally at an odd angle, the head of the lion and a bit of yellow and red all that was visible. The Slytherin banner hung next to it, looking as good as new.  
  
Hermione and Draco stood silently beside one another in front of Voldemort, waiting for him to turn his attention to them. Hermione was quivering in fear and she noticed that even Draco was wincing and jumping at Voldemort's every syllable.  
  
"You two!" Voldemort looked down at them and the two naturally shrank back. "Why did you do nothing while Potter ruined everything?! You in particular, Draco."  
  
Draco winced inwardly. "Uh, I was confused. I've never been in a situation like that before and I didn't know-"  
  
Voldemort didn't let him finish. "Some Death Eater you are!" he roared. "Go find your father and help him seek out Potter. You, girl, sit. I will be dealing with you personally. Do not think I have forgotten your antics at the gathering."  
  
Draco hurried off, glancing back at Hermione with an unreadable expression. Hermione sat down on the steps and watched the Death Eaters, while Voldemort stalked down to yell at people from a closer range. She felt terrified, but also oddly relaxed. Most of the students and staff had escaped. Only thirty students had been caught and three teachers. All were being held in the dungeons of the Malfoy home-where she now assumed she'd been held over Christmas-for the time being. As far as Hermione knew, Harry, Ron, Ginny, and Hagrid remained free. Life was not going to get better, she knew-if anything, it would get much worse. But at least Harry had saved everyone. If only he would stop trying to save her.  
  
Her mind was occupied with questions and worries. She could feel Draco's wand sitting in her pocket and her thoughts turned to it. What was he playing at, giving her that wand? Why had he done it? He had even lied to Voldemort about it-and lying to Voldemort was not something that was commonly done. She didn't know what to think of Draco at that point.  
  
"Get up."  
  
Hermione looked up and saw a man with a glowering expression staring at her. She leaped to her feet. "Voldemort told me to wait here," she replied, trying to sound haughty and cocky like one of them. Maybe if she did he would leave her alone.  
  
"I know. The Master also told me to take you to a holding cell where you are to remain until he gets around to you. He's busy and you aren't top priority, Mudblood. So move. I'm to Apparate you to Malfoy Manor."  
  
Hermione had been called a Mudblood so much this past year that it no longer even bothered her. Words were nothing compared to the pain she had suffered. If anything, she was proud of being Muggle-born. She didn't care what they thought. She would not let them ridicule her for that as well. She walked down the steps and out of the Great Hall, trying to mentally unknot her stomach, the Death Eater following her all the way.  
  
  
  
*******************  
  
Darkness seemed to have fallen, though in the Forbidden Forest, where it was always night, it was hard to be certain. Harry and Ron had traveled deep into the forest, looking for somewhere to hide for a while. They had spotted Hagrid on their way to the forest. He had tried to get them to come along with him to Hogsmeade-he said he knew a way that would get them safely out for certain. Ron had been interested in going, but Harry had adamantly refused, and Ron, in the end, stood by him. Ron had made Ginny go with Hagrid though, not wanting to have to risk his little sister when they went back for Hermione.  
  
  
  
"Get her to my mum and dad," Ron had said to Hagrid. "And tell them . . . tell them I'm alive and fine. But there's something I have to do here. Tell them I can't go home until I've done it."  
  
"Hermione," Hagrid had stated simply.  
  
"Yeah," agreed Ron. They'd been forced to separate after that, when a group of Death Eaters had almost spotted them and that was the last they'd seen of each other.  
  
Harry and Ron had soon after found an indentation in a rock overhang where they'd stopped. They had decided it was the best that they would be able to do. The Forbidden Forest was not a welcoming place to humans and there weren't many cozy places to be found.  
  
They'd remained silent for a while, both wrapped up in their own thoughts and too deep into thinking them to share them. Finally, Ron spoke up, in a weak, dead-sounding voice. "I can't believe it all. If you'd have told me all this was going to be happening a month ago, I'd have owled my dad and told them to put you with Neville's parents. It's impossible."  
  
"Apparently not, as it has happened," Harry mumbled, pulling apart a stick with his fingers and stripping the bark off, layer by layer. The pain in his scar had lessened, though it was still hurting. It hurt whenever Voldemort was close or feeling murderous; right now he was both, so he supposed he would have to expect his scar to continue causing him pain.  
  
Ron looked at him. "Hermione will be okay, Harry."  
  
Harry shook his head. "No she won't. You saw what Voldemort did to her right in front of everyone. I saw it too, in case you were wondering. I'm certain he's the one that beat her up before. She's not safe."  
  
Ron gave him a quizzical glance. "Beat her up?" he demanded. "What's that about?"  
  
"I don't want to explain right now. Long story short, Ginny saw that she had a whole bunch of cuts and bruises on her back on the trip back from Christmas holidays. Must have been Voldemort. He probably kidnapped her or something, and that's when she . . ."  
  
"She didn't become a Death Eater willingly, Harry," Ron said. "I know it. It's Hermione we're talking about. I don't know why she is one, or how it happened, but he forced her. That's why she's been so distant the past weeks. I'm surprised she hasn't killed herself. I think I would have."  
  
"I know it's not her fault," Harry replied, still picking apart the stick and talking in a low voice. "I didn't know what to think at first, but once my brain started working again I realized that. But that just scares me even more. Ron, I love her. I don't know when my feelings for her became that strong, but I do. I can't stand it, knowing she's at the hands of the most evil man in the world. It's driving me crazy. Thinking what the Death Eaters could be doing to her . . ."  
  
"We'll get her out," Ron said determinedly.  
  
"I'm not leaving until I do," Harry growled, his voice turning hard again. "I don't know how we'll get her out or what we'll do about Voldemort after that, but it's one step at a time."  
  
"Well, then the first step is getting some sleep. We can't do anything tonight," Ron said. Harry nodded numbly, but didn't reply. Ron knew he would not be sleeping and sighed. He attempted to change the subject. "How many people do you reckon got out?"  
  
Harry shrugged. "Most of the school, thank God. I can't imagine what would have happened if I hadn't been outside."  
  
"Did McGonagall get out?"  
  
"I don't know. I didn't see her on the grounds. I hope so."  
  
"Dumbledore?"  
  
"I don't know where he is," Harry said, seeming to realize it for the first time. "I didn't see him at all when everyone was there. Voldemort wouldn't have overlooked him. I just hope he got away. If he did, then there's still a chance. If he didn't . . ."  
  
"Don't even say it, Harry," Ron said dully, shaking his head. He went silent for a moment, and looked up at the tall, black trees above them. Finally, he spoke again. "This is all too much. I remember Dad telling us last year at the World Cup when we asked about the Dark Mark that we wouldn't understand it. We wouldn't understand the terror it inspired and the way people had to live when You-Know-Who was in power. We insisted we would. Well, Dad was right. We had no idea, I know that now. We didn't even truly understand when Percy got murdered. I understand, now, though. This is the worst thing ever. I can't believe it's even happening."  
  
"I know. And we're the lucky ones, Ron. Not everyone got out of Hogwarts. A lot of our classmates are still stuck back there. I don't even know what's happened to Hermione. We're just lucky that we're out here and that we have a chance to fight. Most people don't."  
  
Ron nodded. "Do you think Ginny will be all right?"  
  
"Hagrid will take care of her. You know that."  
  
"Yeah, I'm not saying he won't. I'm just worried about her. Hagrid's big, but he can't do magic. Ginny doesn't have her wand and when I left her, she was half-unconscious anyway. If they ran into a group of Death Eaters, they'd be in a lot of trouble," Ron explained. "I can't lose her, Harry. I already lost Percy and we weren't even that close, for brothers. You saw what it did to me. Ginny and I are pretty close-closer this year than ever. I can't lose her too. On top of it all, I don't think I can take it."  
  
"She's safer than us, Ron," Harry replied, finally setting down the stick and resting his arms at his side. "She'll be fine." He sighed, ran his hands through his hair and stood. "I'll take first watch. You go to sleep."  
  
Ron watched his friend warily. "Harry, you aren't going to do anything crazy while I'm asleep, are you? You're not going to try to sneak back to the edge of the forest or something, right? Getting yourself caught isn't going to help her. I don't trust you not to do that. Maybe I should take watch."  
  
Harry shook his head. "No, I'll watch. I'm not going to go crazy, Ron. But I'm not going to be able to sleep, either, so it makes no sense for me to lay there awake and let you-who could sleep and take advantage of an opportunity that I don't think will be coming along too frequently from here on out-take watch. Just sleep."  
  
Ron nodded and then used his hands to group a pile of dry leaves together for a pillow. Harry climbed up to the top of the rock under which was the opening where they'd been hiding. He let his feet dangle over the side and when Ron looked back up, he narrowly dodged getting hit by one of his friend's sneakers. Ron settled back into the silence, lying down. He shifted back and forth, unable to find a comfortable position. The wand kept jabbing into his ribs. Finally, he sat up and pulled the wand from his robes. He looked at it with a thoughtful expression and finally called up to Harry.  
  
"What is it?" Harry asked, looking down.  
  
Ron fingered the wand, then handed it up to Harry. Harry gave him a quizzical look, but took the wand, slowly. "What are you doing?" he asked. "You need a wand, too. I have mine."  
  
"I know," Ron replied. "That's Hermione's wand. She threw it to me to help me. It's not much, but I figure maybe it'll help you to have her wand. Just give me yours and I'll use it. There's not as much power in a wand if it isn't used by its rightful owner, but there's still enough. And if we have to fight, we can trade back, if you like."  
  
Harry looked at the wand in interest. In the pandemonium back in the Great Hall, he had not seen Hermione throw Ron her wand. He'd simply assumed Ron had his own somehow. He dimly took his own wand from his pocket and handed it to Ron. A moment later, the boy lay back down on the forest floor and silence overtook them again.  
  
In the dim half-light, Harry studied the wand, rolling it over in his hands. Now Hermione wasn't even armed. He tried not to think about it, as it was hard enough to face Voldemort with a wand. Without one it was impossible. He set the wand down on the rock beside him and stared out in the direction of the castle, though it was many miles away now.  
  
We're coming, Hermione, Harry thought. Just hold on.  
  
*****************  
  
Draco walked briskly down the hall of his home, heading for his father's study where Voldemort was currently resting. It was four in the morning of the day after the takeover of Hogwarts. The sun would be rising soon and a new day would begin-one in which Voldemort was ruler. He felt a mixture of pride and apprehension at this fact. He was still confused about his own feelings, which was odd for him. He usually knew exactly what he was thinking and what he was doing. Part of him was happy that Voldemort had finally taken his place as an opposing leader. Another part of him, a darker, deeper part, wasn't as sure. He still hated Dumbledore, Cornelius Fudge and most of the powerful, ruling wizards of the Light side. Those were the figures he had always seen as representing the Light-men he'd been raised to hate. Yesterday, though, he had started to see the real Light side: his fellow students and the casual occupants of the wizard world. Voldemort was willing to kill them all to take over. For once, he was beginning to question whether or not that was right.  
  
He stopped at the door to his father's study and raised his hand, knocking timidly on the wood. It was usually a good idea to be wary when he was just disturbing his father, let alone both Lucius and Voldemort.  
  
"What is it?" growled his father's voice from the other side of the door.  
  
"It's me, Father," Draco said, trying his best to sound respectful. "You summoned me, right?"  
  
"Yes, yes. Come in."  
  
Draco twisted the handle of the door and stepped in. Voldemort was sitting behind his father's desk, leaning back and looking furious. Lucius was pacing in front of the desk, looking as though he were trying to contain his fear by agreeing with everything Voldemort had to say. Both looked up at Draco as he entered and he winced inwardly. An angry Voldemort. Just what he needed to top off this already turbulent day. He closed the door quietly and stepped forward to kneel in front of the desk.  
  
"I greet you, Master," he said, using the phrase that people as low as he had to to greet Voldemort.  
  
"Stand up, boy!" Voldemort snapped. "I haven't the time for casual greetings. Do not waste my time."  
  
Draco leaped to his feet immediately, feeling irritated though not daring to show it. If he hadn't knelt, Voldemort probably would have executed or tortured him on the spot. He certainly would have found time for that. However, he dared not say any such thing out loud. Even looking annoyed at Voldemort's command could result in death. "Yes, Master," he replied, keeping his eyes lowered respectfully.  
  
"You are a good source of information to us, Draco," Voldemort said, but it was clear this was no compliment. "You have been to Hogwarts for five years. You know many things. Hermione Granger will be no help to us in that respect. I'm beginning to think that she has just about been used for all she is worth. She is regaining that foolish sense of pride and she has basically already lost everything dear to her. She's becoming a person with nothing to lose and that is a danger to us. Certainly, we will attempt to pressure her into revealing information-torture her, perhaps. However, I'm fearing that she will give us false information. Soon, I think we will have to kill her."  
  
Draco made no response to any of this. "There's still Professor Snape," he suggested. "He would know more than I would, right?"  
  
"Yes," Voldemort replied slowly. "Logically, yes, he would. Unfortunately, I doubt his loyalty to me. While I can talk with him about information, I would like information from you to verify most of it. There will be things you won't know, true, but I think for the most part you can help us."  
  
"I am happy to serve you in any way you see fit, Master."  
  
"Good. So, to start out, I have a few questions about Granger and the attack upon Hogwarts. Unless I'm much mistaken, she tossed her wand to the foolish boy that stood up to defy me in the Hall."  
  
"Yes, sir, she did," Draco confirmed.  
  
A look of fury overcame Voldemort. "She is definitely to be killed. She has already betrayed me, found a way around the spell to do it. She's too much of a risk. Lucius, I will ask you to interrogate her soon."  
  
Lucius nodded. "Yes, Master. When I am done, am I to kill her?"  
  
Voldemort considered. "I am not sure," he finally said. "I will tell you before you go." Lucius nodded again.  
  
Voldemort turned back to Draco. "So, the boy has her wand, now?" he demanded.  
  
"Yes, sir."  
  
"So she would not have a wand, correct?"  
  
Draco's insides began to freeze. God, he knows! I was such a fool to give her my wand. Why should I care if she dies? I should have known I'd get caught. Her life isn't more important than mine, right? She was already doomed. He thought quickly for an excuse. "No, sir, she wouldn't have a wand," Draco replied, trying to sound puzzled, all the while fighting the urge to run.  
  
"Yet, when the Death Eater responsible for bringing her here from Hogwarts and locking her up searched her, he found this." Voldemort pulled Draco's wand from his robes, and Draco knew his worst fears had been confirmed. Draco tried to look confused.  
  
"This, obviously, is not her wand," he went on. "So, the question remains, whose is it?"  
  
"I . . . I do not know, Master," Draco said. Now it was his life on the line. He'd just lied to Voldemort. That was not a mistake anyone was allowed to make twice.  
  
Voldemort nodded, making an indistinct sound in his throat. "Let me see your wand, Draco," Voldemort commanded.  
  
Draco sighed, and tried to look guilty, which wasn't hard. "I lost it, sir," he said quietly. This was not something one got rewarded for. His father had beaten him when he was little for losing his wand. He'd never made that mistake again. "When Potter came and everyone was running. Someone knocked into me and I dropped it. I couldn't find it again. I'm sorry."  
  
Though Draco did not look, he could feel Voldemort's eyes studying him and he tried not to squirm in his discomfort. "Is that so?" Draco did not reply, as it was clearly a rhetorical question. "Then, could this wand possibly be yours?"  
  
"I suppose it could be, sir. I never considered that possibility. I didn't even know she had a wand after she threw hers," Draco lied, trying to sound casual.  
  
Voldemort threw the wand at Draco. His reflexes were not quick enough to catch it and it fell to the ground in front of his feet. Draco picked it up, his hands trembling just slightly. He stared hard at it, looking at it. He already knew it was his, but he had to make it appear as though he didn't. Finally, he nodded. "Yes, sir," he said quietly. "It's mine."  
  
"Do you have any idea of the implications that your foolishness could have had on our side?" Voldemort demanded in a low, dangerous tone. "Do you realize that by not looking hard enough for your wand-and not reporting its loss to me-could have landed that wand in the hands of someone who would use it against us? It did, too, in case you were not clear on that point. Had she not been hampered by my spell and had my guard not searched her, we would have a serious problem on our hands! Harry Potter's earlier actions have screwed up enough! I don't need you messing things up too!"  
  
Draco shook his head. "No, sir. I was an idiot. I'm sorry."  
  
"If this ever happens again Draco, you will be losing your life along with that wand. Do you understand?" Draco nodded. "And don't think that you are getting off without punishment. Once things have died down, I might take the time to impose a punishment. I'm sure your father intends to. Not now, though. We haven't the time. Go and stay out of the other Death Eaters' way. I'll call for you when I have need of you."  
  
"Yes, Master," Draco muttered, clutching his wand tightly and turning to hurry from the room.  
  
He felt much better once the door that separated him from Voldemort was shut securely. He leaned his back against the wall next to the door and let out a relieved sigh. He'd lied to Voldemort and had not been caught. That wasn't something most Death Eaters-most people in general-could say they'd done. It had almost seemed too easy.  
  
Suspicious, he knelt by the floor and pressed his ear against the tiny crack between the door and floor, trying to hear the conversation inside.  
  
Draco's father was speaking. "I told you, sir, that Draco would do as commanded. He's a weak, pathetic boy with illusions of grandeur. He'll never make it with the type of mentality he has. He'll bully anyone less than him, but won't dare stand up to anyone greater. He can be a terrible embarrassment at times. I wish almost once a day he wasn't my son. The only good thing about him is that even if he ever decided he didn't agree with us, he would not have the guts to do anything about it. He'll follow orders. He'll do what I taught him. Draco's like a robot-it's all he's good for."  
  
His father's words hit him as hard as a physical blow. His head snapped back for a moment, feeling the bitter sting of rejection. He had always known that Lucius was ruthless and disappointed in him at times, but he'd never known that his father's disappointment reached into hatred and loathing. He'd never cared what people thought about him. Not once, when he'd heard a teacher or fellow student talking about what a menace and an annoyance he was had he ever taken offense. Now he felt the pain of it. He'd always tried to please his father. Apparently, he'd failed terribly. It was hard to focus on Voldemort's words, hard to push past the pain he was feeling to listen further, but he forced himself to put his ear back to the door.  
  
"You are blind, Lucius," Voldemort snarled. "He was lying to me about the wand. I feel certain he gave the girl his wand. I know not why, but I know he did. Therefore, you do not know him as well as you thought. He is not following orders-he is going against us. I want him killed."  
  
"But sir-"  
  
"No buts! I've made exceptions for you and your family in the past, Lucius, but this is not something I can excuse. This is betrayal. And I intend to kill the source of it before that betrayal goes further and becomes a problem."  
  
"The Granger girl has certainly betrayed us more than my son."  
  
"And she too will die, once we have gathered all information from her. Leave the boy be for a few hours. Then go and speak with him again. See if he will admit he lied."  
  
"If he does, you will spare his life?"  
  
"No. It will simply decide whether he dies by torture or Avada Kedavera."  
  
Draco's breath caught in his throat. He scrambled to his feet and took a few steps back, staring blankly at the door. They were going to kill him! There was no way he could escape. He looked around himself. The mansion he lived in was wide and spacious, a place where no one could feel claustrophobic. However, he felt as though the walls were pressing in on him, showing him there was no escape. He broke into a run, heading down the north passage toward his bedroom.  
  
He had to get away. He couldn't just sit there and let them kill him. His steps faltered as he remembered that he had the Dark Mark emblazoned on his arm. Voldemort could track him down as long as he had that mark-and there was no way to get rid of it. He kept moving, but slower. Draco knew he'd still have to get away. He'd have to try, at least. Even if he didn't make it, he could try.  
  
His father's words came back to him. Before, he'd never have thought that his father would allow him to be killed, but now, both from the conversation he'd overheard and his father's opinion of him, he knew Lucius would do nothing to stop it. Lucius didn't even want Draco for a son. Draco felt anger come over him. He was right about me before, he decided begrudgingly. I was a mindless follower. But he knows nothing about me now. The tables have turned, Father, and for once, your robot of a son knows the truth and what's right. And he'll stand up for it.  
  
He ran up the stairs, his resolve hardening with each step. If they didn't want him here, they wouldn't have him here. And if they wanted to kill him, they'd have to find him. If they succeeded in killing him, they'd at least know that they'd all been wrong-Draco Malfoy would not sit back and accept death. He reached his bedroom and grabbed his old cloak off the hook behind the door.  
  
He did not pause to take anything else. The less he had, the more easily he could run. He poked his head out the door, but saw many Death Eaters around. He sighed, forcing the nervous beating of his heart to calm. He'd have to wait until things calmed down some, so he could inconspicuously slip out. Voldemort had said they were going to give him a few hours. He'd wait one hour, then leave. He couldn't risk any longer than that.  
  
As he paced his room uncomfortably, his thoughts flowed over everything that had happened. Everything he'd believed in had come crashing down in a few short minutes. Fifteen years of training and beliefs had been broken down entirely in fifteen minutes. It was too much to take in.  
  
For the first time since the meeting, his thoughts strayed to Hermione Granger. He knew she was being held in their dungeons-which were used as prisons-at that very moment. It was where she'd been held over Christmas. They were going to kill her, too.  
  
Part of him didn't care. His life was in danger too. Every man for himself. He'd already gotten himself into that predicament by giving her his wand. He'd felt that maybe she could get herself out with it. He'd done enough for her. He'd been an idiot and now he was seeing where that had landed him. Forget her. Let her get herself out. She should have done a better job at hiding that wand.  
  
But the other part of him was thinking differently. His father's words plagued him: "He'll do what I taught him. Draco's like a robot-it's all he's good for." His father had been right. He'd stuck to his childhood training and teachings with a flare, even now. And still he was following them. Leaving Hermione was what Lucius would do. He didn't want to be his father's clone any longer. He tried to figure out what someone else would do. What he would do.  
  
It came to him in less than an instant. He had to save her. He didn't know why-perhaps it was just an act of rebellion, something to prove to Lucius he could stand up for something other than the Dark side. Maybe it was guilt for getting her into this mess in the first place. Maybe he actually even cared. He didn't know and he didn't bother to think about it further. He'd save her. They were already going to die, right? What did he have to lose by trying to save her?  
  
Nervous, knowing he now was taking even more risk, Draco poked his head out again. It had been only forty-five minutes, but he'd need at least the other fifteen minutes of the hour to get Hermione out of the prison. He'd have to convince the guard to let him in to see her, and then he'd have to convince her that he wasn't tricking her into something. Judging on his past lies and deceit when it came to her, that would be no easy task. Then he'd have to get out of the manor with her, which would possibly be the most difficult part of all. If it were just him leaving, no one would think about it-he belonged there. As far as they were concerned, Hermione belonged in the prison. It would be a fight to get out.  
  
The hall was relatively clear and he stepped out. He hid the book under his robes and made sure his wand was in his pocket. He held his head high as he walked down the stairs. He attempted to appear just like he always did-cocky and sure of himself. Unfortunately, he no longer felt either.  
  
He reached the stairs to the dungeons and paused. He looked back and could see the short hall toward the front doors. It would be so easy to just leave and let her stay there. It would be easier and safer. But it wasn't the right thing to do, he didn't think. He would have left Harry or Ron, but his respect for Hermione and his guilt at what he'd done to her life fueled him to move forward and start down the steps.  
  
When he reached the bottom, there was a steel door there and a guard was sitting in a chair, reading a book. He looked up as Draco appeared. He nodded. The two were about at the same level in Voldemort's ranks-the guard was, possibly, a little higher. "Draco," he greeted simply.  
  
"Jarod," Draco replied in the same manner. "I'm here to see Hermione Granger. May I enter please?"  
  
The guard, Jarod, looked unsure. "Why do you want to see her? I haven't received any instructions to let you in."  
  
"You're receiving them now, aren't you?" Draco snapped. "My father sent me down here to ask her about a few things in Hogwarts. I don't know about them and he thinks she does. Just let me in or else my father and Voldemort will be very angry. You know the Master does not like to be kept waiting and every second we waste here is a second that he has to wait."  
  
Jarod winced at Draco's last few words. He knew of Voldemort's short temper and did not want to risk setting it off. He nodded at last. "All right," he said finally, standing and unlocking the door with his ring of keys. "But don't tell the Master I was on duty, huh? I'm not all that sure about this."  
  
"Fine, Jarod," Draco said impatiently. He shrugged past the guard and into the hall of prison cells. He looked back to make sure the Jarod had closed the door before starting down the rows of cells, looking in each one, trying to find Hermione. Many were filled with kids from Hogwarts. Some didn't see him and those who did glared at him or called him angry names. Some had been hurt, but most looked as though they were just being held. He even saw one or two of his teachers, but hurried away before they could say anything. He didn't have time. Guilt was weighing at him heavily now, but he shoved it away. If he wanted to help anyone, he would have to get Hermione and escape.  
  
As he neared the end of the hall, he heard soft, familiar sobs coming from a cell near the back. Draco nodded grimly, allowing the brief thought that he could still turn around to disappear. He sighed and walked over to the cell where the sobs were coming from. He looked in through the window, confirming that it was Hermione.  
  
He pulled out his wand and aimed it at the lock. "Alohomora!" The lock twitched but did not open. He stared at it. He couldn't even open the lock!  
  
For the first time, Hermione looked up. She'd been sitting on the stone cot, crying. Her face was red and tear-streaked, but her expression was no less venomous than he'd have expected. She sent a glare at him. "What are you doing here?" she snarled. "Go away. Haven't you done enough to me?"  
  
"Excuse me, I'm trying to help you here," he replied testily, staring at the lock. "If I could only get the stupid lock open."  
  
She narrowed her eyes at him. "Why don't you have keys?"  
  
"Because I'm not supposed to be here!" he snapped. "I'd rather explain from in there than out here. Do you know how to open the door? A spell, something . . ."  
  
She studied him. "Why should I tell you anything? I don't know why you want in here."  
  
"If you don't tell me, I'll go and stun the guard and take his set of keys, but it would be a lot safer for the both of us if you would just tell me anything you know," Draco replied.  
  
Hermione did not move for about twenty seconds. Finally, she said slowly, "The guard sealed it with a special spell. Advanced locking. Alohomora won't open it."  
  
"I'd figured that," Draco said dryly. "How do you open it?"  
  
"The spell is Alohomitricus Grandulus."  
  
Draco repeated the words, aiming the spell at the lock. It clicked and he pulled the door open, stepped in and closed it behind him. She hadn't moved, but continued to stare at him in distrust. "Too bad Jarod took the wand from you," he commented. "Then I wouldn't be here."  
  
"I see you've got the wand back," she replied, looking at his wand in his hand. He could tell that that fact gave her no comfort. If he wanted her to trust him, she couldn't be frightened of him.  
  
He tossed her the wand. It landed on her lap and she stared at it, stunned. She made no move to pick it up. She looked at him. "What are you playing at?" she asked, but for once her voice was not hostile, simply confused and curious. "First you slip me your wand, then you come here- against orders, supposedly-and give it back? What's your game, here, Malfoy, because I know you have one."  
  
"Then for once you'd be wrong," he replied. "I'm here to get you out. I figured that if I wanted you to trust me, I couldn't be armed while you were helpless."  
  
Her mouth fell open. She shook her head in disbelief. "You can't be serious. You want to get me out? Okay, now I know you're up to something, because that's the worst lie I've ever heard."  
  
Draco sighed and tilted his head to look at the ceiling. Finally, he looked back at her, choosing his words carefully. "Look, Granger, I'm not good at admitting I'm wrong or at apologizing. So give me a chance here. The fact is, I am wrong. About you, about my father, the Dark side . . . I've been wrong about everything. My life has been one big lie. I've begun to think about it lately-ever since I captured you. But today I've realized it like never before."  
  
She stared at him. "And what made you realize that was what, Malfoy? Vision from God . . . concussion . . . high fever . . ."  
  
"I mean it," he said with a fierce honesty in his voice that even Hermione could read. "I really have. Basically, I'm trying to say that I'm sorry. I know that that can never make up for what I've done and saying sorry won't turn back time, but I am anyway. I'm not asking for another chance- that's not something I ever hope to gain from you or anyone else I've betrayed. I'm asking for your trust."  
  
Hermione shook her head, her eyes conflicted and frightened. "You sound pretty sincere, Malfoy. I've never heard you sound that way before. However, my trust isn't something I can give to you. I've had it betrayed so many times that I doubt I'll find it easy to give it to anyone again, let alone you."  
  
Draco sighed. "Granger, my father is going to kill you. Probably today. If you want to live, we have to get out of here."  
  
Hermione looked away. "I'm not too sure I want to live, Malfoy," she whispered. "In fact, I'm pretty sure I don't."  
  
For the first time, he thought to ask, "Why were you crying when I came in?"  
  
She scowled. "Still like to demand to know personal things, don't you? If you must know, your father was talking to me about ten minutes before you came in."  
  
Draco winced a little inwardly. "What did he say?" he asked, not caring if he was prying.  
  
She was quiet for a moment. "They're going after my parents," she said. "They're going to kill them. There's nothing I can do. My mum, dad, Harry, and Ron are the only reasons I have left to live and if my parents get killed, any will to live I've managed to hang onto will be destroyed."  
  
"So you're just going to sit there and let them do it?" Draco scoffed. "Let them kill them-and you? Even when you have a chance to save them and you?"  
  
She looked up at him. "In case you hadn't realized, there aren't many ways out of this cell, Malfoy. I can't get out to help them."  
  
"You're a lot more thick than I took you for," Draco informed her seriously. "I'm offering you a way out, Granger. Just come with me, get out of here and you can save your parents. You can at least try."  
  
"Why do you want to get out of here so badly?" she asked. "This is your home and these are your people. What's with the sudden urge for escape?"  
  
"I told you, everything's different now. I found out a few things about my father I never knew. One of them is that he and Voldemort intend to kill me in less than three hours," he said shortly. "I'm not trying to take you along so you can help me-I can get out by myself and it would be whole lot easier. No one will think twice about my leaving the mansion. Taking you along just makes things harder. But I figure I owe you that much."  
  
"They're going to kill you, too?" Hermione asked, surprised. "Why?"  
  
"Because I lied to Voldemort about giving you the wand," he said. "Which, by the way, I was also doing to help you. You should have done a better job of holding onto it."  
  
"I'd like to have seen you try!" she snarled, eyes flaring. "There was nowhere to hide it! And anyway, even if we do leave, I think one faint little detail may have escaped your mind-we both have the Dark Mark. Voldemort can track us down. We can't run."  
  
"We can," Draco argued, a grim smile playing on his lips. "He may pursue us every step of the way, but we can run. It isn't as though if he summons us we automatically are zapped to him. He can track us, but we can find ways to elude him. We have to try. We'll die if we stay, but at least we have a chance at survival if we go."  
  
Hermione appeared to be considering him for the first time. "How do I know this isn't just some trap?" she demanded.  
  
"You don't," Draco said shortly. "That's where the trust part comes in."  
  
Hermione looked around thoughtfully. Finally, she sighed and stood. She walked over to him. "I'll go," she decided. "As you said, I die if I stay, I might die if I go. I like the second option better. But you had better understand something-I don't care if you die. I'm not doing this for you; I'm doing it for my parents, my friends, and the Light side, which I have betrayed beyond belief. As soon as we get out, I'm going where I need to go and you can go wherever you want."  
  
"Are you going to your parents?" he asked. "Or Potter and Weasley?"  
  
"My parents are on the other side of England," she said quietly. "There's no way I can reach them in time."  
  
"Want to bet? Ever heard of a little thing called Apparition?"  
  
"You can Apparate?" Hermione asked doubtfully, raising an eyebrow. "Since when?"  
  
"Since I was twelve," he replied haughtily. "My parents taught me, in case I ever needed to know, but they'd never let me actually do it. I can, though. And I can Apparate you along with me. Should be easy enough. We'll be there in no time."  
  
"We?" Hermione asked incredulously. "You intend to come with me?"  
  
He shrugged. "Why not? Haven't got anywhere better to go, have I? Besides, the way I see it, we can help each other. I need you for all your spells. You're smart and can get me out of things I might not be able to handle on my own. You need me for a simple little thing called explanations. You can't tell Potter, Weasley, your parents-anyone-about your secret. Voldemort's spell is still active. Finding them and not being able to explain is not something good. I can explain for you. And I can Apparate too. I'm a man of many talents."  
  
Hermione squinted her eyes at him warningly. "If this is all a trap, Malfoy, I swear-"  
  
"It's not."  
  
"It had better not be," she warned.  
  
Draco looked out the window of her cell, where the sun was now up in the sky. He looked back at the door and opened it. "Now or never. Last chance, Granger."  
  
Hermione stared at the door. This is all a trap, it's got to be, part of her insisted. Another part spoke up: But what if it's not? She couldn't take that risk. If she had a chance, she would take it. She nodded at Draco begrudgingly.  
  
"I'm in." 


	12. Destiny's Risk

A/n: Hello everyone! Now that ff.net is back up and it's almost the wonderful end of the school trimester-yay!-I can post this chapter. I hope you enjoy it! Some things I need to say about the future of this story: I am planning three to four stories within this universe that I've created. I am unsure whether or not to make it a trilogy with Harry and Hermione and Ron and everyone, or just to make it two fics. I'll tell you when I decide. Also, there will be one side story, not completely connected, but exploring a sub-plot that will take place in the sequel. It will not be about our three heroes. I can tell you no more at this time. Also, several chapters are going to need to be broken in half to fit the ff.net word limit. The next chapter is an example of this. While my original story came out to sixteen chapter, the ff.net version will be around twenty due to chapters being cut in half. All the original content will still be there, just in two parts rather than one. I am also planning to add a poem I wrote-I have absolutely NO faith in my poetry skills, so please be gentle when you read it-to the end of it. Okay, that's enough rambling. As always, read and, most importantly, REVIEW!!!!  
  
Tomorrow's getting harder, Make no mistake, Luck ain't even lucky, Got to make your own breaks." --Bon Jovi  
  
Chapter Twelve: Destiny's Risk  
  
A large, scruffy, weary-looking gray owl swooped through the sky of the early morning. Being just a bird, it could have no understanding of the panic and disarray that was going on below it in the wizarding world, nor could it know the implications of the paper it clutched in its talons. All it knew was the cool early morning, with the sun beating on its wings. All it felt was the exhaustion of a long trip and the tantalizing prospect of rest and food within the house it flew towards.  
  
It swooped down and in through an open window. It dropped the newspaper on the kitchen table and continued to the far counter, where it collapsed. A moment later, a pair of hands picked it up and set it on its perch.  
  
Ginny Weasley stroked Errol's wind-ruffled and sparse feathers as he lapped water. Finally, she turned and walked back into the kitchen, where her mother, father, and twin brothers were all sitting. Molly Weasley was bustling about the kitchen, silently and quickly making a breakfast that was too large for the four of them. Arthur Weasley was staring at the clock with all their names on it. Ginny was not sure if he was looking at Percy's name, which pointed at "dead", or at Ron's, which pointed towards "mortal peril." She supposed he was looking at both. Fred and George were sitting quietly at the table, for once silent and still. They were both staring at the Daily Prophet that Errol had dropped in front of them. Neither dared pick it up.  
  
Ginny and Hagrid had taken Hagrid's way out of Hogsmeade and Arthur Weasley had met them. He'd Apparated her and Hagrid back to their home. Currently, Hagrid was sleeping on their sofa, and they could hear his faint snores drifting into the kitchen. She'd told them about Ron and Harry, but had specifically not mentioned Hermione. She didn't know what to think about her friend any longer. She didn't think that Hermione could have betrayed them, but she was no longer sure about anything.  
  
"When are Bill and Charlie arriving?" Arthur asked his wife dully. His voice sounded thick and strained.  
  
"Noon. They have some things to wrap up, then they'll be here," Molly replied in a voice that was similar to her husband's.  
  
Arthur turned his attention to the paper as Ginny sat down in between her father and George. Slowly, he reached out and picked it up, taking off the rubber bands that folded it into a tube. "Might as well see what everyone is saying about this." By this they all knew he meant Voldemort's attack on Hogwarts.  
  
Ginny could see the headline and flinched. It read:  
  
Hogwarts taken over-three betrayals assist  
  
Yesterday afternoon, Hogwarts School for Witchcraft and Wizard- ry was taken over by none other than You-Know-Who. By now most are aware of this catastrophic and frightening event. However, the thing most do not yet know is that You-Know-Who had three Death Eater spies within the school-one teacher and two students. Professor Severus Snape, the Potions teacher, was revealed as having been a traitor since You-Know-Who's last era. Draco Malfoy, son of Lucius and Narcissa Malfoy, was also revealed as having been a Death Eater. Last, and perhaps most shockingly, was Hermione Granger, Gryffindor Fifth-Year and friend of Harry Potter. Details are still unclear.  
  
"M-Molly!" Arthur sputtered, bits of coffee spraying from his mouth and splattering the table and paper. He was staring at the paper with wide eyes. "Molly, come here and read this."  
  
Molly walked over and took the paper from Arthur. She was wary, and as her eyes roamed the paper, they could all see her expression turn to anger. Finally, they all saw her eyes grow wide in disbelief. "No," she whispered, shaking her head. "Hermione, a traitor? This has to be a misprint."  
  
"What?" Fred cried. "Let us see, Mum!"  
  
Neither of their parents replied. "Molly, it's no misprint. Right name, right House, right age, right friend. That's no accident. I don't want to believe it anymore than you do, but . . ."  
  
George, tired of being ignored, grabbed the paper from his mother and he and Fred quickly read the headline piece together. Molly didn't object and turned to her husband while they read. "They said details were still unclear . . . they could have the wrong student. Misinformation. That must be it . . . don't you think?"  
  
"That's-crazy, that is," Fred commented, shaking his head and setting down the paper. The two identical boys wore identical expressions of disbelief and confusion. "Does it say who wrote it? I'll bet anything it was Rita Skeeter. You saw what she wrote about Hermione last year."  
  
Arthur glanced down. He sighed in disappointment. "Not Rita. It was my friend Bob Lokar from the paper. He's never printed anything in the paper that was wrong, because he's always verified his sources. This was no accident."  
  
"But these aren't normal times, Dad," George argued. "He might have been in some hurry . . . made a mistake . . . not saying it's his fault, it happens to the best of us . . . just the same . . ." Finally, his choppy argument trailed off all together and they could all see he did not believe his own words-but he didn't believe the words of the paper either.  
  
"Ginny."  
  
Ginny looked up as she heard her name. She'd been staring blankly, trying to process her own arguments for Hermione, but wasn't being successful. She was not sure who had called her, but now everyone was staring at her. Ginny had known the moment would come when they would think to ask her, but she didn't know what to say.  
  
"You were there," Fred said, seeming to realize it for the first time. "Spill it."  
  
"Fred!" Molly reprimanded, giving him a stern glare. "This can't be easy for your sister. Coming face to face with that evil man himself . . . everything that followed . . . please, do not pressure her to speak of it unless she is ready. Ginny, sweetie, you don't have to say anything if you don't want to."  
  
Ginny appreciated her mother's concern, but she could see that even Molly wanted her to speak. She knew she could not hide the truth forever. "Yes," she finally said, choking on the word. "Yes, I saw it. You-Know- Who called up the three traitors and asked for them to show the Dark Mark to the school. Hermione was up there, along with Snape and Malfoy . . . she had the Mark . . ."  
  
"She was a Death Eater," Fred sighed, looking completely shocked by this information. He fell back against the chair and stared numbly. "I can't believe it. Who can you trust if you can't trust someone like her? Hermione, a Death Eater . . ."  
  
"No."  
  
The family turned to see Hagrid's large, looming form in the doorway. He'd apparently risen from his slumber. He was standing staring at them with a trouble expression. He was shaking his head adamantly. "Not her," he growled. "She wasn' no Death Eater."  
  
"Now Hagrid," Arthur said, trying to sound calm and reassuring, "she had the Mark. That cannot be faked . . . surely you know that . . ."  
  
"Yeah, I know tha' mark can' be forged," Hagrid grumbled. "Don' matter if she has it or not." Hagrid tapped his skull with one of his large fingers. "It's up here where yer a Death Eater. Don' matter wha's on yer arm. It's wha's in yer head. An' Hermione was no Death Eater in her head or her heart. I don' have an explanation, but I know this all has an explanation. Anyone who knows her should. Poor kid's a victim, jus' as much as any o' us-more so."  
  
"We don't want to believe it either," Molly said. "She was such a sweet girl, such a good friend to Harry and Ron. To find a betrayal that close- well, it's natural to not believe at first. But you can't know what was going through her head."  
  
"I have an idea," Hagrid growled. "An' I know at leas' one o' yeh knows at least part o' wha' I'm referrin' ter." He glanced at them meaningfully, his eyes locking on nobody in particular.  
  
Arthur and Molly looked around in confusion. Fred and George appeared to be deep in thought. Ginny remained still, but finally nodded, understanding Hagrid's words. "I know what he means," she whispered. "It could be a reason . . . I don't know why I didn't consider it before . . ."  
  
"Yeh were shocked an' scared," Hagrid said sympathetically. "No wonder it didn' hit yeh till now. But that's at least one reason." Ginny nodded.  
  
"What are you going on about?" Arthur demanded, losing his patience with Hagrid and looking to his daughter. "What reason are you talking about?"  
  
"There are many," Hagrid informed him. "The main reason is tha' Hermione apparently has some ugly scars on her back. Ginny saw 'em on the school train back from Christmas. Harry told me, and Ginny told him. She'll verify it."  
  
Ginny's parents looked to her again. She nodded, allowing Hagrid to continue.  
  
"Sounds ter me like someone beat her. She coulda bin forced inter joinin' 'em. Yeh wan' more reasons? I'll give 'em ter yeh. Her grades wen' down and she sulked ever since Christmas. Barely talked. She didn' do any homework, which is jus' abou' as odd as she can get. I tried ter talk ter her abou' it, but she wouldn' say nothin'. Started cryin', though, an' ran out o' me hut. Reason four-Ron an' Harry are still willin' ter risk their lives ter save her, aren' they? They mus' trust her enough ter do tha'. Reason five-she was a member of Resistance group Dumbledore put together. Top secret, tha' was, but the cat's outta the bag now. Daily Prophet'll be reportin' on it tomorrow, I expect. Four students one from each House. Hermione was the Gryffindor, Justin Finch-Fletchley from Hufflepuff, Jennifer Ackerly from Ravenclaw, an' Draco Malfoy from Slytherin. Draco Malfoy was a traitor; have no doubt abou' tha'. But not Hermione. I'll bet anything Malfoy targeted her. 'Cause two betrayals destroyed the resistance, an' allowed fer You-Know-Who ter take over."  
  
Hagrid had said all of this in one fast, angry burst and when he finally quieted, a shocked, uncertain silence followed in his wake. Normally, in such a situation, Hagrid would have turned quite red and began mumbling about how he could be wrong or how he should just leave. However, this time, Hagrid stood his ground, staring at them all and waiting for one of them to respond. There were very few times in his life that he had ever been so certain that he was right-and this was possibly one of the strongest feelings he'd ever had. Hermione was not a Death Eater willingly, he would bet his life on it.  
  
Arthur, his mouth hanging open just a bit, finally snapped out of his stupor. "My God, Hagrid, why didn't someone tell us these things before? I'm still not entirely sure about her, but someone ought to have known . . . and, no, I'm not saying I believe she is innocent, but there is now evidence to support the contrary . . ."  
  
"Oh, come off it, Dad," Fred snapped. "I didn't want to believe it before. Now I agree with Hagrid-I dunno what happened, but this isn't her fault. George and I went to school with her for four years. We never knew her as well as Harry, Ron, Hagrid, or Ginny did, but we knew her well enough to know that there has to be an explanation."  
  
"I'm with Fred," George spoke up.  
  
"Mum, Dad," Ginny said, speaking up tentatively for the first time since Hagrid had begun, "I think they're right. I saw her back . . . it was awful. If you'd seen it you'd realize she'd been tortured . . ."  
  
"Listen, I know you think you're right and I dearly hope you are. I certainly pray that this is all false. However, I'm not as quick to assume as you are. I've worked for the Ministry for years and though I've only worked in Muggle Artifacts, I've seen my share of horror stories where You- Know-Who is concerned. I was alive during his first reign and I still have nightmares about it at times. I remember what it was like-being terrified all the time, wondering if you'd come home to find your family dead, looking twice at every friend, acquaintance, and person you see on the street, wondering if they were one of His followers. Now He's back again and we have to be just as careful. I know just a bit more about these kinds of times than you all do."  
  
"And we know just a bit more about Hermione than you do," Fred replied defiantly. "Besides, Hagrid was alive, too. He still believes she's innocent."  
  
Arthur became flustered and uncertain of what to say. It was clear he didn't think Hagrid was the best source of judgment, but did not want to hurt the man's feelings. "Well, I . . . I know, of course, but his judgment is . . . clouded where she is concerned. He was her friend-you all were-you can't truly think clearly where friends are concerned . . ."  
  
"And what if you're wrong, Arthur?" Molly questioned quietly. "What happens then? We can at least try to do something . . ."  
  
"Like what?" Arthur demanded. "What can we possibly do?"  
  
"Try an' rescue her," Hagrid growled passionately. "I'm not leavin' her wherever she is. If yeh had half a brain, yeh'd agree with me on tha' point. She's jus' a kid! Jus' yer son's age! Yeh expect her to deal with whatever's happenin' on her own? It's apparen' she's already bin tortured an' who knows wha' else. She needs help an' much as I trust Harry an' Ron, they can' do it on their own. Speakin' o' Ron, he's out there tryin' ter save her, ain' he? If yeh wan' him back, yeh'd better help him find her, 'cause if I know Harry an' Ron-an' I do-then he's not comin' back without her. Neither of 'em are."  
  
Molly held up her hand in a motion to silence Hagrid, but Arthur replied anyway.  
  
"Hagrid, those are noble sentiments, and yes, I would like to help her. However, that's not going to be any easy task. We don't know where she is and even if we did, she has the Dark Mark. Did you know that binds her to You-Know-Who for life? She cannot run or he will find her. It's a side effect of the Mark."  
  
Hagrid, who'd been about to reply, closed his mouth and looked, for the first time, confused and out of ideas. "No," he said in a dry, hoarse voice. "I never knew it."  
  
"There's gotta be some way we can rescue her!" Fred exclaimed, Hagrid's faded dedicated enthusiasm racing through his voice. "I'd say we need to find Harry and Ron. If anyone will be able to find her, it will be those two. And after all, the more people they have helping, the better chance there will be, right?"  
  
"I'm with you, brother," George said, standing up. "Find Harry and Ron. Save Hermione. Save the Light side. Onward!" He pumped his fist into the air with this last word.  
  
Arthur Weasley's mouth had fallen open entirely by this point. He was shaking his head in disbelief and staring at his two sons. "Now wait just one second! You've done foolish things in the past, but even thinking about doing this far outweighs them all. You are talking about doing the impossible. Finding Harry and Ron alone would be a challenge. Finding Hermione is near impossible. Rescuing Hermione is impossible. Defeating Voldemort and saving the Light side is just lunacy! You wouldn't stand a chance."  
  
"Well, Dad, looks like we'll find out," Fred proclaimed brightly.  
  
"You will not set one foot out of this house!" Molly cried shrilly, looking panicked. "We've already lost Percy, I would not be able to handle it if I lost you both as well! Ron's already risking his life. Please, don't do this, boys." Her last sentence was not voiced as an order-it was voiced as a plea.  
  
The two boys exchanged sympathetic looks. Simultaneously, they stepped forward and hugged their mother, who appeared near tears. "Don't worry, Mum," George reassured her. "We'll be fine. Promise."  
  
"You can't know that!" she said frightfully.  
  
"We have to do this," Fred stated simply. "Just like Ron and Harry had to go after her, we have to help them. You can't stop us. We're legal adults now. We can leave no matter what you say. However, I'd like to leave knowing you support us and that we didn't have to run away."  
  
Molly was lost for words, and just shook her head in horror.  
  
"If you're going, I'm going," Ginny cried from where she sat.  
  
"No! Ginny don't even think about it!" Molly ordered. "It's different with Fred and George, they're adults. You . . . you're just fourteen. There is no way I'm letting you leave." She shot a warning glance at the twins.  
  
"Naw, Ginny, Mum's right," Fred agreed. "You stay here. Do your best to help out from here where you're safe."  
  
"Yeah, Gin," George said seriously, walking over and kneeling in front of her. He looked her in the eyes. "We're legal adults, like Mum said. We can get ourselves killed whenever we like now. Before we couldn't unless Mum and Dad said so. That's part of the fun of being eighteen."  
  
"GEORGE!"  
  
George held up his hands. "Sorry, Mum. Sorry, Ginny. Just a joke. But, no, you stay." He turned to face Hagrid, who was staring. "What do you have to say, big guy?"  
  
"Yer nuts ter try an' take down You-Know-Who," Hagrid informed him. "But yer brave and honorable ter try an' help yer friends. Good luck, I guess. Not like there's much I can say in the contrary. I've learned over yer Hogwarts days tha' tellin' yeh not ter do somethin' on'y makes yeh more inclined ter do it. So yeh won' be hearin' no arguments from me."  
  
"Thanks. So where did you leave Harry and Ron?"  
  
"In front o' the Forbidden Forest. Righ' by me hut. I saw 'em go inter the fores' there. No guarantees they stayed, though."  
  
"I'd bet money they did," George said. "It was just yesterday afternoon and those two aren't leaving until they can get into Hogwarts and look for Hermione. So we'll start there."  
  
"Your crazy," Arthur said numbly from the table. "The Forbidden Forest is huge. They could be anywhere."  
  
"But they won't be. They'll be near the forest edge. They're not going deeper than they have to. They want into Hogwarts, not away from it."  
  
Arthur sighed. "Boys, I know I can't stop you. But I can beg you not to do this. For me, your mother, your sister, your older brothers. Please, reconsider."  
  
Fred and George looked entirely serious for one of the few times in their lives. "Dad, we have to do this. For Ron, Harry, Hermione, Ginny, this whole family, and the rest of the Light side that will be victimized by You- Know-Who. We're going."  
  
"We love you all," Fred added. "And I promise we will see you again. Goodbye. Do your best to help from here." He picked the newspaper up off the table, then looked to his brother. "Forbidden Forest on three? In front of Hagrid's hut?"  
  
"No, we can't Apparate on Hogwarts grounds. Closest we can Apparate is Hogsmeade."  
  
"Right. Okay, then, in front of the Shrieking Shack?"  
  
George nodded. "Yup. One-"  
  
"Two-"  
  
"Three!"  
  
And suddenly, the two boys had Disapparated from the kitchen, leaving two empty spots in their wake. Silence fell over them again. "Those boys are crazy," Arthur mumbled. "Craziest kids in the whole universe. Do they really think they stand a chance against You-Know-Who?"  
  
"Apparently they do," Hagrid informed him. "An' personally, I think they migh'. Not alone, mind yeh, no one could defeat him alone. But with Harry, Ron, an'-God with us-Hermione, I think they could do it. I pray they can."  
  
"What can we do about all this?" Ginny demanded. "If I've been left here- which, obviously, I have-I want to help. What can we do?"  
  
"Warn Hermione's parents and Harry's aunt and uncle? If I were one of their parents, living isolated in a Muggle community so that I knew nothing of any of this, I'd want someone to tell me," Molly suggested.  
  
"Yes, we should warn Hermione's parents," Arthur said begrudgingly. "However, it's useless to warn Harry's guardians. I can guarantee from when I picked him up last year for the World Cup that they won't care."  
  
"Do it anyway," Molly ordered briskly. She turned to look out the window. "We'll do whatever we can to help her and our sons. And we can do as Hagrid said-we can pray that they can do what I don't think anyone else can. Take down the Dark Lord."  
  
**************  
  
Hermione stepped cautiously from her cell. She winced as her foot hit the concrete, as though expecting alarms to go off and guards to come running. Nothing happened. Hermione sighed, and came out, shutting the door behind her. She looked around her at all of the different cells, so identical to hers, in which her classmates were sitting. They could be freed. They didn't have the Dark Mark, so they weren't in danger of being tracked. The temptation pulled at her.  
  
Draco watched her carefully. "You know, if you want to get out of here, we need to go now," he warned. "I'm betting we have fifteen minutes before someone comes looking for either you or me, and once a search is instigated, we're trapped."  
  
"I know," she replied, but didn't move. She could see into the cell across from hers. A small, First Year boy was lying shivering on the stone cot. He was wearing the robes of a Gryffindor and she automatically felt a pull of sympathy towards him. She knew she'd have felt it for the boy had he been from any house-even Slytherin-but with a Gryffindor, it was even stronger. She bit her lip.  
  
Draco, still watching, seemed to have followed her train of thought. He started to shake his head. "No, no, and no," he snarled. "We're not freeing everyone, Granger. It would be fatal. We'd be caught in two seconds. Get out of your fantasy."  
  
"Well, we can't just leave them here," she argued.  
  
"Yes, we can."  
  
Hermione glared at him. "You have absolutely no moral conscience, do you? You could just walk away from all these people-little kids, kids our age, our teachers-and let the Death Eaters kill them with no second thoughts?" She paused, and looked away. "Then, after all you've done to me, I can't believe I've allowed anything you do to surprise me."  
  
"Hey, I'm here, aren't I? Leaving them is called self-preservation. We're preserving ourselves until we can come back and get these people."  
  
Hermione let out a dry laugh that contained no humor. "Come back? You'll never come back, you liar. You may agree to come with me some places, but if I ever suggested coming back for these people, you would take off in an instant. I, unlike you, actually care about the lives of everyone here. Go get the keys from the guard, Draco."  
  
He stared at her in disbelief. "You're not serious. You're committing suicide. I'll have no part of it. I came down here trying to help you and you're already striking off on your own. Some gratitude."  
  
"You want me to trust you, Malfoy? You want me to have any thoughts that you just might have changed? Then get the keys. If not, leave. I don't care either way," she grumbled. She stood staring at him, daring him to choose.  
  
He rolled his eyes. "Fine. I'll leave. See you." He turned and walked determinedly back towards the door. He opened it, careful to keep it far enough closed so that Jarod could not see Hermione was free, then left. Hermione watched him all the way in exasperation. She'd known he had not changed. At least he'd let her out.  
  
Draco must have looked angry as he turned to Jarod, because Jarod immediately raised an eyebrow. "She say something?"  
  
Draco glanced over at him as though he hadn't even realized he was there before. "Yeah, something like that," he muttered and turned to walk back up the stairwell. He'd leave by himself.  
  
About halfway up, his steady steps paused. Wasn't this exactly what his father would do? Yes. Draco wanted to be nothing like the man. He wanted to prove that he could be the exact opposite. He was no robot, no clone. They would see that. But still, he was unconsciously acting like one. Wasn't he just being smart, though? Wasn't this the only logical answer?  
  
This time, no immediate answer popped into his head. He sighed in annoyance. He hated having all these second thoughts. He remembered enviously the days when everything he'd done had been good enough for him. There had been no second thoughts, no questions. Now that was all there were.  
  
I'm not like him. I won't be, he thought ferociously to himself and turned to jog back down the stairs. He stopped in front of Jarod who looked back up at him, confused. "What are you still doing here?" he asked.  
  
"I have a question. All those prisoners in there . . . what will be done with them? Will they be released?"  
  
Jarod looked at him like he'd grown a second head. "Let them go? You're mad. You think the Dark Lord would let them go? Naw, they'll be killed. Probably tortured too." He laughed, grinned, and looked back down at the book he'd been studying. "That's what you get for standing up to the Dark Lord," he mumbled, not looking up.  
  
Draco glanced at the door, where Hermione was undoubtedly doing her best to free the prisoners, then back up the stairs. He could just walk away. Let them all die. There was still a chance . . . He didn't take it. He had no idea why, but he turned back to Jarod. The man was reading and wasn't taking notice of him any longer. Draco saw his wand sticking up out of his pocket. He hesitated just a moment, then lunged.  
  
Jarod cried out as Draco grabbed the wand swiftly from his pocket and pointed it at him. He stared dumbly at it for a moment, then turned his focus to Draco's face. His mouth was open. "What are you doing, Malfoy?" he asked.  
  
"Keeping you quiet," Draco growled. "Stupefy!"  
  
Jarod slumped in his chair immediately. Draco looked back up the stairs to see if anyone had witnessed his attack on the guard. No one was there. He turned out Jarod's pockets until he found the keys to open the cells. He tucked them into his robes and grabbed Jarod's arms, pulling him off the chair.  
  
Jarod was dead weight and though Draco was strong for his age, the guard was too heavy for him. He dropped him, panting. He opened the door to the cell hall. Hermione had succeeded in freeing the small boy and another girl. She looked up at him and her expression of fear turned to a glower. "What are you still doing here?" she hissed.  
  
"Helping you," he growled. "Help me drag the guard in here, huh? I got your stupid keys. You should be thanking me, as this is going to cause us both death."  
  
Hermione looked quite stunned, but ran forward to the door. The two kids stayed back where Hermione had left them. Hermione saw the guard on the floor and knelt down to pick up his feet. Draco grabbed his arms again, and together, the two hauled the man in through the door and propped him against a wall. Draco closed the hall door quickly, hoping nobody had passed.  
  
By now, most of the prisoners were peering out their windows, watching the scene before them. Hermione spotted Lavender brown among the faces she could see. Upon eye contact, Lavender narrowed her eyes in anger. Hermione looked away.  
  
Draco pulled out the keys and handed them to Hermione. She took them and he clutched Jarod's wand. "You do the cells on the right, I'll do the ones on the left. Keep everyone down there at the end of the hall. Nobody can panic and run out or we're dead. The only chance we have of this succeeding is if they wait until we get out, then they run. Can you deal with that?"  
  
Hermione nodded and the two turned away from each other to start opening the cells. Things went a lot faster with the keys. All were numbered with the cell they opened. Most people she got out were people she'd recognize by sight if she saw, but could not give a name. About halfway down the line of cells, she stopped at a cage occupied by Neville Longbottom.  
  
He wasn't surprised at seeing her-she was sure he'd seen her freeing the others-but he looked very confused. "Hermione?" he asked. He was trembling in fright, and as she began to open the door, he backed away a little. "What are you doing?"  
  
"I'm freeing you, Neville," she explained hurriedly. "I can't talk. But I'm sorry for all of this." She opened his cage and he stepped out. She pointed toward the cluster of scared, skittish Hogwarts students and teachers. "Go join them." Neville stepped out past her and walked down the hall, but he kept glancing back at her.  
  
The last person Hermione freed, at the very end of the hall, was Professor McGonagall. She looked as though she'd been hit, because she had a fat lip, but otherwise she appeared okay. Hermione kept her eyes lowered as she unlocked the door, too ashamed to look her professor in the eyes.  
  
"Miss Granger, what is all this about?" asked McGonagall when she stepped out. She sounded overwhelmed and confused, just like Neville had. She studied Hermione, her best student, who now appeared lost and scared of her own shadow. "I don't know what is going on here, but I disregard what happened at the Great Hall. I did not want to believe it before and this is enough proof for me."  
  
Hermione just nodded and turned away, still not understanding how anyone could forgive her. It may be Draco's fault that she was there, but it was her fault that they were there. She'd been too much of a fool to just kill herself before. It was her betrayal that had really cut them down. She'd thought that if she died it would destroy the resistance. She hadn't even realized that two betrayals would do the same. Some star student she was.  
  
McGonagall said nothing more to her, but she followed her down the hall to where everyone else was standing, scared and packed tightly together. Draco was already there, looking nervous too. As she came over, a thought hit her and nerves made her stomach clench. She sped up. Once she reached him, she wasted no time. She pulled him off to the side some and hissed, "Where is Sirius Black? Your father said they captured him. Where is he?"  
  
Draco scowled. "You really can be dense. Do you really think my father is foolish enough to keep important prisoners down here? This is just a general holding area. He has a much more high-security place to keep people like Black."  
  
"Which is where?" Hermione demanded.  
  
"Get the idea of playing hero out of your head, Granger. I don't know where. Do you really think he told me? He hates me."  
  
Hermione bit her lip. She knew what Draco's father did to "important prisoners" first hand and hated to imagine Sirius trapped here. However, if Draco didn't know-and she sensed he was telling the truth, somehow-then she couldn't do anything. It made her feel terribly helpless. "Is he alive?" she settled for asking.  
  
"I don't know," Draco growled. "We're wasting time, all right?" He turned from her to the crowd before them.  
  
"You all have to stay here, okay?" he informed them all. People began to protest and argue, but he yelled at them to shut up and continued. "Stay here until we escape. Just be glad we got you out at all!"  
  
Hermione glared at him and stepped in. "What he means is that you need to remain here for . . . fifteen minutes. Give us time to escape. Then, you can all escape as well. However, we are in more danger because Voldemort can track us. He cannot track you. And they would stop us in a millisecond if we all came bursting out together. Malfoy and I cannot afford to be caught."  
  
"And we can?" someone yelled out angrily. Some of the others mumbled in agreement.  
  
Draco tried to speak, but Hermione cut him off. "No, of course not," she soothed. "Together, even though you do not have your wands, if you all storm out together, you can probably manage to escape most of the Death Eaters. Just honor our request and give us ten or fifteen-"  
  
Hermione never got the finish the sentence. The door at the end of the hall swung open, and there stood Lucius Malfoy, Severus Snape, and another man. All held their wands at the ready. Their eyes and wands locked onto their large group instantly.  
  
"I told you it was suicide," Draco muttered to Hermione, but he sounded nothing but depressed and frightened. For once, there was no taunting tone in his voice. Just grim acceptance.  
  
"So, Draco, I guess I was wrong about you," Lucius called tauntingly. "You do have a mind of your own. Too bad it's a fool's mind. This is where it gets you in the end. Trapped in a hall, in the middle of an imminent massacre. All to save a Mudblood."  
  
"Who says this is the end?" Hermione snarled, raising her wand to the ceiling. "Enclavo!" A jet of blue streaked from her wand, making everyone pause for a moment. Hermione spun and turned to the prisoners. "Run!" she yelled.  
  
A moment later, they realized why. Chunks began to fall from the ceiling, slowly at first, then faster. Hermione was trying to make the roof cave in. Lucius and Snape looked horrified. All the prisoners became panicked and Hermione realized she'd done the wrong thing. It was a repeat of the Great Hall-nothing but insane madness and panic.  
  
It was a stampede toward the door, in which Draco and Hermione were caught up. Lucius began pointing his wand everywhere, with the aide of the mysterious man behind him. He was aiming at the people running at him. Over the yells and sounds of the ceiling falling, Hermione could not hear what he was yelling. All she knew was several people fell. Snape, meanwhile, was aiming his wand at the ceiling, trying to reverse her spell and to divert falling pieces of rubble from the people, while trying to make it look like an accident.  
  
Hermione and Draco tried to remain in the middle of the crowd so that they would not be hit by spells or debris. By the time they'd reached the door, Lucius and his crowd were hugging the walls, trying to avoid being trampled. Lucius spotted Hermione and his eyes turned to fire. Hermione tried to speed up, but by this time, the group was going slower, trying to head up the stairs. There was no way she could go any faster while stuck in the middle of this crowd. Lucius's hand shot out and grabbed her arm. She hit at him, but his grip was too tight.  
  
Draco saw this and tried to move towards them to help her, but the people around him were packed in too tightly. No one would move for him and he couldn't make them.  
  
Hermione struggled, but could feel Malfoy slowly pulling her closer. She fumbled with her left hand, trying to grab her wand, but it was too late. The crowd had disappeared by now, up the stairs. The roof was caving in entirely in the room beyond the door-which Snape had pulled closed and locked-but Hermione had not made it out. Lucius's other hand snaked out and grabbed her other arm. She could not get to her wand now.  
  
"Daggis, take the wand!" Lucius commanded.  
  
"Expelliarmus!"  
  
Lucius's wand shot from his hand, up the stairs, and right into the hand of his son. Unconsciously, his grip loosened in shock and Hermione fought free, pulling the wand Draco had given her out. She aimed it at Malfoy and yelled, "Stupefy!" Lucius fell to the ground. The other man, Daggis, made a move towards her, but Draco stopped him using the same spell.  
  
Hermione hesitated before moving, staring at the bodies below her in shock. Though crashes were still being heard from the other room and the solid steel door was straining, she knew that the cave-in had just about stopped and she could hear the blood pounding in her ears.  
  
"Get up here!" Draco yelled.  
  
Snape, who was now standing watching the scene silently growled similar instructions. "Get out, Miss Granger," he ordered quietly. "I will do my best to cover for your foolish antics. I promise nothing."  
  
Hermione snapped from her stupor and turned to run up the stairs. As soon as she reached him, the two bolted for the front doors, which were not far away. Two men tried to stop them, but they made it past them and out onto the grounds.  
  
The group they'd freed had made it that far too. Many were hopping the gates or, if they were older, Apparating away. Death Eaters were swarming them, catching many. Draco pulled Hermione behind a long, high hedge before they could be spotted. As they listened and waited for their chance, Draco turned to her.  
  
"You're barking mad, has anyone ever told you that?" he demanded in a low voice. "I told you this was the worst idea you could possibly have, but did you listen? No. And now look at us! Before, we basically could have just walked out the bloody door! Now where are we? All because you wanted to free about seventy prisoners!"  
  
"I don't regret it for a second," Hermione replied truthfully. "It was worth it."  
  
"Yeah? You wouldn't be saying that if I hadn't saved your butt. If you were dead right now," he growled.  
  
"Yes, I would be."  
  
Draco shook his head and stared at her as though she were from another planet. "I will never understand you."  
  
"Nor will I ever understand you. Doesn't matter though. We don't have to understand each other. I don't even want to understand you. We just have to get out of here."  
  
They waited for about five minutes in silence, both holding their breath every time a footstep was heard. Draco would pop his head up every now and then to see if they were clear, but would always fall back onto his knees, shaking his head. Again, he looked over the hedge, but this time he didn't fall back. He jumped to a crouch and Hermione followed suit. He ducked back down. "We've got a clear path from here to the fence. Run for it and we might make it before they see us."  
  
"Oh, how comforting," said Hermione sarcastically.  
  
"This is the best we're going to get. If you want to wait, go ahead." Hermione stared at the hedge apprehensively for a moment before nodding. "Okay."  
  
"Now."  
  
The two leaped up and ran through the hedge, not bothering to go around. Hermione, now that she could see the distant fence once more, began to have even stronger doubts. Perhaps waiting was the better idea. The fence did not seem to get closer, as one would expect, but it seemed to grow steadily further away as she continued to run. She knew it wasn't really, but it was hard to remember that when her vision was telling her differently.  
  
Lost in her panic to reach the fence, she didn't realize she was being aimed at until Draco yelled, "Heads up, Granger!" She looked over and barely managed drop to her stomach in time to avoid a bold of red light. She leaped to her feet again, and this time the fence looked much closer, to her relief.  
  
The men did not stop shooting, but Hermione and Draco would pause every so often to shoot back. They reached the fence and climbed desperately to reach the top. It was a high chain-link kind, with sharp arrows pointed skyward lining the top. Hermione felt helpless as she climbed. She couldn't stop to fire anything at her attackers and her shoes seemed too big to fit into the links of the fence. Finally, she reached the top, put her hands in between two of the jagged arrows, and catapulted herself over. She landed hard on the ground on the other side. A moment later, she heard Draco drop too, and he yelled a curse back at the Death Eaters, who were now running towards the fence.  
  
Draco ran to her. "The forest," he said, pointing to the line of trees that lined one of the sides of the house. "It's safest."  
  
Hermione did not bother to argue and the two made one last desperate dash for the forest. They cleared the trees, but did not stop running for another minute. Finally, Hermione could run no more and fell to her knees, gasping for air. Draco stopped too, and while he tried to look dignified and unruffled, it was clear by the look in his eyes that he was still shaken and was exhausted.  
  
As Hermione replenished the air she'd lost, a thought struck her and she looked up at Draco. She stood and faced him. "So tell me, Mr. Apparition," she snapped. "Why didn't you Apparate us out of there? You'd better have a good reason, because, I swear . . ."  
  
"I couldn't," he said shortly. "Voldemort would get an automatic fix on us. He could have pulled us right into his chamber."  
  
Hermione's anger diminished and she looked at him in curiosity. "I thought he already had a fix on us. The Dark Mark?"  
  
He nodded. "Yeah. He has a general picture of where we are. But if we Apparate or Disapparate within three miles of Voldemort, he knows exactly where we are." Seeing she was still unclear, he sighed and sat down on a large rock he found. "Look, he tracks us like this. He has this . . . crystal ball, I guess you could call it. Like something you'd see in Professor Trelawny's classroom. He calls in the Gazing Orb. He gets a general picture of where we are in it. For example, if he asked for a location on us right now, he'd get a picture of this forest. He wouldn't have an exact location. So, you see, we can run, but we have to keep running. We can't settle anywhere for a very long time. They'd find us."  
  
"Then what would he see when we go to my parents?" she asked nervously.  
  
He shrugged. "You think I know? I've seen it once or twice and I know how it works, but I don't know exactly what he'd see. He might see the city or the neighborhood or even the house. Not sure. We'd just have to be fast."  
  
Hermione nodded and looked around. "Well, we'd better start moving again. We need to get three miles outside the radius of Voldemort and we can't stay put anyway."  
  
Draco nodded and stood up. They didn't run this time, choosing to walk at a quick pace instead. Both were still shaken from the entire escape from Draco's home. Hermione felt that her guilt was slightly more at ease than it had been before. At least she knew that she'd done all she could to help her classmates and had saved many. She would not let herself dwell on those she had not been able to save. Now she had to save her parents. Her throat clenched at the thought of them, but she forced herself to think positively. They had to be alive.  
  
She glanced sideways at Draco as they walked. She was no longer certain how she felt about him. She still felt distrustful, but perhaps a little less so than before. He had stayed to help her free the hostages and had waited to curse his own father. He hadn't had to do that. Still, it could all be an act. Hermione had been tricked too many times in the past by his acts to fall into another one so easily. He hadn't done enough to make her trust him, but had done enough to make her feel conflicted, at least.  
  
Draco was still confused. He knew that for the first time in his life, he was an outsider to the people he'd put all his trust and faith in. He was their enemy now. He felt lost, as though he'd strayed from the path he'd been taking and was now in the forest surrounding it, without a compass. He could barely sort out his own thoughts. Hermione was still not his favorite person in the world, but he was glad he'd saved her. He was still unsure of why he'd agreed to go back for the others. He hadn't cared. The more he thought about it, the more he figured that most of what he'd done was just to prove to his father that he could do something other than what his father would approve of. This did not ease his mind, because he was still lost in the proverbial forest.  
  
"Is this the Forbidden Forest?" Hermione asked, breaking the silence suddenly.  
  
"No," Draco replied grouchily. "It's the Red Forest. We're pretty far from Hogwarts."  
  
"Do you happen to have any idea how we'll know when we're three miles from Voldemort?" Hermione asked cynically. "This is getting more and more impossible. If we Apparate now, will Voldemort get a fix on where we are now or where we Apparated to?"  
  
"Where we went to," Draco said without feeling. "Just be quiet, will you? I'm trying to think."  
  
"So sorry to disrupt you," she snapped sarcastically and turned away, wondering why she'd even bothered to try to make conversation with the traitor.  
  
They continued to walk in silence, both wondering the same question, though neither would give up the pride to admit it to the other: Can we really do this? 


	13. Destiny's Reunions part one

A/n: Hey everyone! Sorry for the delay in posts-schoolwork and sickness. How fun. Anyway, this is the first of three or so chapters that will be divided in two. Hope you like it!  
"I'm sick of the tension, Sick of the hunger, Sick of you acting like I owe you this." --Linkin Park  
  
Chapter Thirteen: Destiny's Reunions  
  
Harry crouched silently, just within the Forbidden Forest, watching the activity before him. Death Eaters were still determinedly patrolling everywhere. Hagrid's hut was now guarded, as were the doors to Hogwarts, and many other Death Eaters were roaming around as well. All carried wands at the ready. Harry sighed and sank to the ground. He rubbed his scar, which had not stopped hurting all night. Not that he would have gotten much sleep even if it had stopped. Three times they'd been woken and forced into quick hiding to avoid being seen by passing Death Eater groups. One time, Harry and Ron had dove behind a pile of bushes and a Death Eater had stepped on the heel of Harry's shoe. There had been a few tense moments while they waited with bated breath, but the man had simply sworn and muttered about sticks and shrubberies.  
  
"No luck, then."  
  
The stated fact came from Ron, who had appeared beside him. He sat next to Harry, watching the Death Eaters. "We'll never get in there, you know," Ron told him matter-of-factly. "Even if we pass the guards on the grounds, we'll never get past the ones inside. If we had the Invisibility Cloak, maybe, but you left it behind the statue. We haven't a chance. How do you even know they're keeping her here?"  
  
"She's in there, Ron," growled Harry, but he was saying it more out of desperation and hope than out of logic. "She has to be. And as long as she's in there, I'm going in there."  
  
Ron sighed, but said nothing. He focused back on the Death Eaters. "You know, it looks like they're looking for something, doesn't it?"  
  
"Yeah. Us."  
  
"No, I don't think so," countered Ron. "We came out to look at dawn, remember? Most of the Death Eaters were gone, except for the guards and forest patrols. Why is everyone out now? I seriously doubt You-Know-Who let them take the night off to get some sleep."  
  
Harry began to see what Ron was thinking and nodded. "You have a point. Who could they be looking for, though? Besides us, I mean. Think someone tried to get in?"  
  
"Might have. I doubt we're the only ones who want in there."  
  
"Yeah, you're-"  
  
"Shh!" hissed Ron, cutting him off suddenly. He turned to look behind them, his face tense. Harry fell silent instantly and shifted back into a crouch, ready to run should he need to. A moment later, he heard what Ron had-voices. It sounded like two men, coming towards them fast.  
  
Ron stood and looked around frantically. He spotted a crop of thick bushes and trees and pointed at them. "Hide there!" he gasped. The two boys ran for the bushes and had just managed to dive behind them when two figures emerged in their line of sight. It took them a moment, but they soon recognized the figures-Fred and George Weasley.  
  
Ron's mouth dropped open and Harry just stared. Ron grabbed Harry's arm and jerked him to his feet. "Fred, George, what are you-" he began to ask. However, Fred and George seemed to live by the rule of shoot first and ask questions later.  
  
"Expelliarmus!"  
  
"Petrificus Totalus!"  
  
Harry felt his wand jerked from his hand, and saw it flying through the air towards Fred's outstretched hand. Ron, however, fell flat onto his back, completely stiff. George still had his wand out and pointed at where Ron had been standing. The twins had identical looks of surprise and disbelief on their faces.  
  
"Ron? Harry?" asked George, glancing from Harry to his brother, who was lying flat on the ground, staring at the sky. "Thank God we found you."  
  
"And Dad said we didn't stand a chance!"  
  
"This is a golden opportunity, brother-years worth of material to throw in Mum and Dad's faces whenever they tell us we're good-for-nothing practical jokers."  
  
"Uh, guys? Do you happen to know how to unfreeze Ron? I don't think he's very happy down there," suggested Harry.  
  
Fred shrugged like it was nothing. "Ah, well, he can wait. He can hear us. Doesn't need to talk, does he? In fact, it's probably better if he stays quiet."  
  
Ron made an angry grunting noise from the ground beside Harry.  
  
Though Fred was all for leaving Ron frozen a while longer, George undid the curse, allowing Ron to stand up on wobbly, unsteady legs. "Don't shoot curses like that at people!" Ron snarled at Fred and George. "And if you do, take them off when you realize it's your brother!"  
  
"Don't jump out from behind bushes and scare people. We thought you were Death Eaters. We reacted. Can't fault us for that, can you?"  
  
Ron muttered something under his breath that Harry thought sounded very similar to, "Watch me." However, he dropped the subject and turned to the more obvious questions. "What are you doing here?"  
  
"Looking for you," said George, turning serious again. "And you shouldn't have been so easy to find, you know. If we could have found you, so could the Death Eaters. What are you doing so close to the forest's edge during the day? We expected you to be harder to find, because we expected you not to be complete idiots."  
  
"Don't lecture us; answer us."  
  
"I did. We are looking for you. We found you," stated Fred. He pulled a rolled up newspaper from his robes and handed it to Harry. "Check out the front page, headline article. And it's not Rita Skeeter, blowing things out of proportion-we already checked," he informed them grimly, his expression dismal.  
  
The twins watched Ron and Harry as they quickly scanned the article. Ron's expression turned to one of deflated disappointment. He nodded to himself, not taking his eyes off the paper. Harry, on the other hand, turned angry and defensive.  
  
"Stupid reporters!" he growled. "They shouldn't print things without confirmation that it's true. This is not Hermione's fault-she's the victim here, even more than us!" He eyed the twins. "You know that right?"  
  
"Of course we know it, dungbrain! Why else would we come against Mum and Dad's wishes and risk our lives to try and help you save her? We just thought you'd want to know that it's made the paper, true or not. You might find some other interesting information in there too."  
  
Ron looked up quizzically. "Like what?"  
  
George looked more depressed than Ron had ever seen him. "Like the fact that the wizarding world is now in shambles. Worse than last time he was strong. Dumbledore has disappeared and no one knows where he is. Some are afraid he's dead. Fudge has panicked without Dumbledore around to help. You know he couldn't handle everyday common decisions without Dumbledore's advice-he could hardly handle this. Word has it he's been in denial ever since the attack on the Ministry conference. He can't ignore this, though, and he knows it. Seems that he's the definition of coward-he's run off, leaving us without a Minister. Fudge and Dumbledore are the two men most everyone looked up to for leadership and guidance-now, when we really need them, they're both gone. Hogwarts was one of the places people were certain You-Know-Who couldn't get to and now he has. People are running low on faith of any sort. No one will fill in as Minister, everyone's too scared. All our kind are panicking without anyone to lead us. Everyone's following Fudge's lead and trying to get out of the country. Some are Apparating, of course, but most are using Muggle transport to get their children out. Their airports and bus stations are getting clogged and the Muggles are becoming suspicious. No one's bothering with security. We're Apparating in the middle of Muggle streets! We're wearing our normal clothes, and talking about our types of things in front of them. Some people are even doing magic in front of them! It's making their news already. Too many people have seen and heard things they shouldn't have. This is far too big to contain, even if someone was around to try. Soon the Muggles will know and they'll panic, too. You-Know-Who won't have any trouble taking over when we're in this state of disarray and disorder." George shook his head sadly and sighed. "If this keeps up, I don't reckon we'll be able to beat him this time. I'm on the verge of running myself."  
  
Harry stared, feeling completely shocked. He'd never thought about how things were going away from Hogwarts and how the other wizards were taking it. He'd certainly never have imagined things could have gotten so bad-let alone so fast. More than ever, he felt as though this were all some oversized nightmare. However, he also knew he would not be waking up.  
  
Ron appeared as stunned as Harry. "What about Mum and Dad?" he asked quietly. "Are they running? Has Ginny gotten home? We sent her with Hagrid . . ."  
  
"We know," Fred told him reassuringly. "She made it home last night. Hagrid's with us, they're both safe. Our family has remained at the burrow. Mum's all for taking off, and, as she put it, "protecting our children." Dad won't have it, though. He says the Ministry needs all the help it can get from anyone willing and he refuses to leave. He suggested that Mum, Ginny and us two leave, but she refused to leave without you two. She was talking about sending us and Ginny on ahead with Charlie, who's considering going to stay in Romania until this calms down a bit, but now we've taken off too. She might send Ginny, but needless to say, that's only one of us. Bill's staying to help Dad. So, basically, she's waiting for us four before she takes off. Probably Hermione now, too. Hagrid has her convinced that she's innocent."  
  
"She's waiting for me?" asked Harry guiltily. He felt horrible that she was remaining in danger for his sake. "Why me? I'm not part of the family. She should just get out. I don't want her to get hurt or something because she was waiting for me . . ."  
  
George shook his head. "We suggested she leave, too. Dad could send you along when you got back. She refused, as long as Bill or Charlie was watching Ginny and us. And as for you, Harry, she considers you the eighth Weasley child, so don't argue."  
  
"We'll just call you Harry Weasley from now on, shall we?" joked Fred. He turned serious again quickly. "Really, though, she does. She's got the measure of the Dursleys. Believe me, she'd have invited you to live with us had Dumbledore allowed her to. One time we overheard her telling Dad that she wished they could adopt you, or at least take you in full time. She cares about you as much as any of us. She's not going to leave without you."  
  
Harry, in spite of their current situation, couldn't help but feel deeply touched. He knew the Weasleys cared for him, Mrs. Weasley in particular, but he'd never known they cared that much.  
  
"So you just up and left?" asked Ron, breaking the moment of silence.  
  
"Yeah," confirmed Fred. "We knew you'd be here looking for Hermione, so we figured we'd help. We had a big row with Mum and Dad in the kitchen, and then we informed them we were of legal age and could do whatever we pleased. Hagrid backed us up and we Apparated. That was only about five hours ago. We went to the Shrieking Shack, and then walked back here. Some Death Eaters spotted us and we only just managed to get away. We've been searching for you for about three hours."  
  
"So that's what all the commotion's about out there," realized Ron. "They're looking for you. Why did you Apparate into Hogsmeade though? Seems awfully stupid not to just Apparate right into the forest."  
  
George was about to reply, but Harry got there first. "You can't Apparate inside Hogwarts grounds," Harry reminded him quietly. "Normally I'm on your side, but how often does Hermione have to tell you that?"  
  
Ron grinned a little. "Maybe I should read Hogwarts, a History."  
  
"No. You won't have to. Hermione will be back, Ron, and then she can tell you it all from memory," Harry told him fiercely. Then he repeated, as though to remind himself, "She'll be back."  
  
Fred and George, who had watched all this silently, finally began to fidget. "Guys? Like we said before, we're just a bit too close to the edge for my taste. Let's go deeper into the forest. Can't be any scarier than what's happening outside the forest, right? Whatever we do, it'll have to wait until later. Until nightfall, at least. We can form some sort of a plan in the mean time."  
  
The four boys turned and began to slip further away into the forest. Harry hated having to wait hours to do anything, but he supposed that making a plan was the smartest thing to do. He just hoped nothing happened to Hermione while they sat around formulating.  
  
*****************  
  
"No, seriously, I think we can Apparate now."  
  
"They're sure to have followed us, Malfoy! Who knows how close they are?"  
  
"Doesn't matter how close they are, just how close Voldemort is and I doubt he's one of the people chasing us on foot. He's evil, but he's not stupid. He'll be waiting, watching the Gazing Orb and preparing to send his Death Eaters after us once he gets a better, less general picture of our location."  
  
Hermione sighed and thought hard. He had a point. But what if he was wrong and Voldemort had indeed followed them? What if they were still within three miles of him? A vision flashed through her mind and she saw herself and Draco being zapped from the forest right in front of Voldemort. She heard his cold, mirthless laughter echoing and his high voice screaming "Avada Kedavera!" She saw a flash of green light.  
  
This vision alone was enough to make her want more proof that they were safe, but there seemed to be little they could do for actual proof. This made her uneasy. However, another picture came to mind, one of her parents. The longer she waited out of fear, the more danger they were in. Voldemort may have been distracted enough to forget about them until this point, but there was no guarantee that he wouldn't remember them soon. He also might realize that was her destination and cut them off.  
  
"Fine," she relented unhappily and warily. "Let's do it, then. What do I do?"  
  
Draco, however, seemed to have frozen. He stood still, frowning to himself as though he were deep in thought, and staring at a place on the ground. He looked back up, his expression uncertain. "We have a problem."  
  
"What problem?" asked Hermione, enunciating each syllable with a tone of warning.  
  
"Well, the thing about Apparition is you have to focus really hard on the place where you want to go. Have to have a solid, vivid picture of it in your mind, as if you were there. Then you have to imagine yourself there. It has be as real as a photograph, not something simple. Problem is, I don't know what your house looks like."  
  
Hermione stared at him. She regained herself quickly, a solution coming to her. "Well, it doesn't sound that hard," she proclaimed. "I think I could do it. Or at least part of it. If I can picture my home and us in front of it, can you do the rest?"  
  
Draco shook his head. "Two people can't share the work. One can take another with them, but they can't do it together. It's all or nothing."  
  
Hermione bit her lip, thinking. When her mind appeared to be presenting no helpful ideas, she turned to blame. "Malfoy, this is all your fault!" she snarled. "My parents are probably going to die because you said you can take me there, but you couldn't!"  
  
"Hey, I didn't think about it at the time," he snapped defensively.  
  
"That's obvious! I seriously doubt if you think much at all!"  
  
"Excuse me, things were just a bit stressful back there! I don't consider every detail before I jump into something like you have the tendency to do."  
  
"Well maybe you should try it sometime."  
  
Hermione lapsed into silence once more. Anger surged through her, but what outweighed even that was her anxiety. She had to get to her parents, had to save them in time. It was the one thing fueling her, the one reason she was motivated to take a single step further. If she lost them, too, she knew she was liable to sit down and wait for the Death Eaters to capture her. She wouldn't care.  
  
Suddenly, words popped into her head, words that Hagrid had said to her so many months before when she'd been doubting herself: "Yer the mos' intelligent witch in this school, I daresay. Doesn' matter if yer on'y a fifth year. I'd still be willin' ter bet tha' yer smarter than most, if not all, the seventh years." She didn't really understand why she'd remembered what Hagrid had said then, as it didn't help her much. What good did books and intelligence do now? What she needed was to be able to Apparate. Suddenly, she picked out one phrase of Hagrid's comment, and thought about it. Certainly, she wouldn't learn to Apparate for another two or three years-not legally, anyway. However, if she really was as smart as a seventh year . . . just maybe . . .  
  
"Malfoy," she said slowly, "can you describe, in extreme detail the process of Apparition?"  
  
He studied her, and seemed to realize what she was thinking. "You really are mad," he proclaimed, shaking his head. "Apparition is not easy, Granger. It took me three years to master."  
  
"You said you'd gotten the handle of it when you were twelve. If you started learning when you were nine, it's no wonder," she replied as though it were the most obvious thing in the world. "I can do it. I have to. Just try to explain it to me."  
  
"Raving lunatic, Granger, that's what you are," Draco informed her seriously. However, he sent a scowl towards the sky, and then began to explain the process of Apparition. To Hermione's ears, it did not sound all that difficult, though she knew that it would be harder than it sounded. First thing she had to do was create a vivid image of her destination. Then, she had to picture herself where she was standing right then. Third, she had to imagine herself disappearing from where she currently stood, then reappearing in front of her house. All this had to be done very vividly and in great detail or else it would not work.  
  
Hermione wondered if she'd be able to do it correctly. What if her imaging was not vivid enough? What if she wound up somewhere entirely different? Or worse, what if she splinched herself? The thought would normally be very unappealing, but with Dark wizards after her that would catch her if she was stuck somewhere without a leg or arm, the idea was even less appealing. She amused herself with thinking that it might not be so bad if she splinched herself and lost her left arm. Then Voldemort wouldn't be able to track her. This thought, however, was nothing more than a joke and she turned serious again.  
  
Draco watched her throughout all this, dwelling on just how insane she was being. If she did something wrong, he wasn't waiting for her-he was going ahead. He'd put up with enough of her delusions. However, deep inside, he recalled all the times that Snape, or McGonagall, or any of their teachers asked a ridiculously hard question that he'd scoffed at. He recalled how he'd thought no one could answer and yet Hermione had somehow known the answer. He also remembered the resentment he'd felt towards her afterward, but this time, he found himself wondering, even hoping, that she could defy his measure of her talents one last time.  
  
"Are you seriously going to do this?" he asked scathingly.  
  
"Yes," she informed him with a strength to her voice that told him not to argue. "Now, how do I Apparate you with me? Is that harder?"  
  
"Yes. Instead of just picturing yourself, you've got to picture both you and me. And you've got to be touching me, so we're transported together."  
  
He could tell by her momentary silence afterwards that she was beginning to doubt she could Apparate both of them, but it became clear that she intended to try anyway when she grabbed his arm. "Fine, then. Is that good enough?"  
  
Draco did not reply. Now he was becoming nervous. What if she hurt him in the process of trying to Apparate. He tried another tactic. "Have you thought about splinching much?" he demanded, raising his eyebrows.  
  
"Yes, I have, and please do shut up. I have to concentrate and I wish to ignore the fact that you even exist. Touching any part of you is punishment enough. If you'd rather not come along, just stay here. It's no great loss."  
  
He scowled at her, but didn't move. Much as he hated to admit it, he'd been right back at Malfoy Manor. He did need her for her knowledge of spells and such. Without her, he felt he would be in a tight fix if he was to encounter another group of Death Eaters. The incident with the roof caving in was enough to demonstrate that Hermione knew a good assortment of handy spells and she could think quickly enough to pick the one that best fit the situation.  
  
Hermione closed her eyes and focused on making a picture of her house. She thought of the long, two-story, comfortable home that she'd been raised in and got a picture of it from the outside. The door, off to the right, with a curving brick path leading up to it, and it's light, sea green paint that matched the garden and trees their yard contained. Once she was certain she was remembering every bush in the right place, every curtain the right color, she switched tactics. She thought about the forest she was in and pictured herself standing in the middle of the trees. Her task became harder. She hadn't taken a good look at the trees around her, but she did her best to create a picture of them in great detail. Then, she focused on thinking about herself and Draco. This might have been the hardest part of all. Hermione had deliberately avoided looking in mirrors recently, not that she'd had much opportunity the past two days. It was easier to think about Draco than her. Once that was done, she created another picture, of them standing in front of her house, then finally, her stomach tight with apprehension, she envisioned the two of them Disapparating from where they stood.  
  
Nothing happened.  
  
Hermione sighed and opened her eyes. "It didn't work," she informed him in disappointment.  
  
"Try again," he instructed. "Try giving everything more detail."  
  
She did and still, it did not seem to be working. She tried at least three more times before letting out a groan of disappointment. "I'll never be able to do this," she moaned.  
  
"Told you it was hard," said Draco. "You're just lucky you haven't done anything. You could have been splinched. It's happened to me before-trust me, not a fun experience."  
  
"One last time," she said, standing up. Draco rolled his eyes. Hermione studied him up and down and he waited, allowing her to memorize the placement of every one of his buttons and the color of every article of his clothing. Then she turned and spent a good two minutes getting a picture of the forest around her. Finally, she started to look herself up and down. She took the least time doing this, then grabbed his arm once more. She closed her eyes and went through the order of pictures in the way Draco had told her to. This time, she spent more time detailing each picture. She lost herself in the images she was creating, trying to convince herself they were real and that she was truly there. She allowed her desperate urge to arrive at her home overwhelm her, something she'd been fighting against. She took so long that she was vaguely aware of Draco shifting beside her in annoyance, but to her, he was no longer there. She was in her own world. Finally, she reached the last step, taking care to imagine each step of her journey from the forest to her home.  
  
And then everything changed.  
  
There was a lurching sensation, then nothing. There was a sudden chilled breeze whipping around her body and there was no longer a silence broken only by birds and leaves rustling. She heard the distinct sounds of cars and of a lawn mower. Her eyes snapped open and she found herself standing on the lawn of her home, facing the door---alone.  
  
Though she looked everywhere around herself to make sure, Draco was nowhere to be seen. She'd obviously not developed him enough in her mind. She ran her eyes quickly over her body, making sure she had not been splinched and left any body parts behind. She sighed with relief when she realized she had not. She wasted no time worrying about Draco. He was most likely still back in the forest. She'd find a way to get her parents out without his help. It was actually a relief to get away from him.  
  
"Hermione? Is that you?"  
  
Hermione turned at the sound of her voice. She saw the neighbor across the street, Mrs. Lattice, was looking at her curiously. Mrs. Lattice was a nosy but polite woman and no doubt she was intrigued by why Hermione was at home during the school year. She was certain that Mrs. Lattice had made it her business sometime within the last five years to find out where Hermione went during the school months. Her parents had probably told her she'd gone away to school, like a lot of kids did. Mrs. Lattice was average in height, though slightly overweight and had a warm smile that lit her round face merrily. Her gray hair was styled in tight curls at the top of her head.  
  
"Yes, ma'am," she answered respectfully, looking over her shoulder longingly at the house.  
  
"Where'd you come from?"  
  
"The house," answered Hermione lamely, praying Mrs. Lattice did not intend to press her further.  
  
"Why are you home, dear? Seems I haven't seen you since summer. Year- round school, right?"  
  
Apparently, her thoughts had been correct about Mrs. Lattice's assumptions on where she went. "Yes," she answered. "I got home this morning. There was an incident at our school. It's been closed for a week, so I'm home."  
  
Mrs. Lattice, her nose ever sniffing for gossip, immediately caught on to the part about the school incident. "Ooh, really? I hope no one was hurt. What happened?"  
  
Hermione, who had been dreaded answering such a question, thought fast. "Oh, no one was hurt," she assured her. "We just had a . . . a gas line break and they felt it was too dangerous for us to remain."  
  
Mrs. Lattice calmed down some, but still looked mildly intrigued. "Say, have you heard about all the odd things happening?" she looked as though she wasn't very hopeful that Hermione would answer she hadn't. Apparently it was something big if everyone already knew.  
  
"No, I haven't," she said, getting more and more impatient by the second. What if Death Eaters were on their way right now and she was wasting her time talking to her gossip-loving neighbor?  
  
Mrs. Lattice perked considerably. She dropped the rake she'd been holding and crossed the street so they were nearer to each other. "I don't know how you couldn't have, dear," she said excitedly. "It's all over the news! All these odd things happening-strange people, unexplainable incidents . . ."  
  
Hermione, who'd been about to tell Mrs. Lattice she was due inside, stopped. Something didn't sound right to her about that. "What types of things?" asked Hermione carefully.  
  
"All sorts! People appearing out of nowhere! All these people that look like they're in some cult dressed in these long robes. People talking about odd things, saying unknown words as though they mean something! Words like, Foldermork, and Moogle. They even showed some footage on the news of a man with this stick pointing it at his little boy, saying something unheard. Then suddenly, the bottle his son was holding flew right to him! It's like some magic show has come to town!"  
  
Hermione froze, her insides knotting themselves up painfully. These people Mrs. Lattice were talking about were clearly wizards. What else had happened to make them so obvious and lax in security? What was going on? "Really?" she asked, trying to sound mildly interested and not the least bit queasy.  
  
"Oh, yes! It's as though their aliens, or . . . no, more like witches! It's witchcraft, that's what it is!" Mrs. Lattice was clearly proclaiming this for the first time, because she became even more excited. "How frightening, isn't it? If these . . . these witches can do what that man did, who knows what they'll try to do to us? Witchcraft is evil, dear, mark my words. These people are certainly dangerous! We need to lock them up in a cage and study them, or . . . or just kill them before they can do anything to us!"  
  
Hermione swayed on her feet. Was this the way all Muggles would react? Was the Ministry going to stop this before people like Mrs. Lattice got their way? She had a sinking feeling that the answer to her second question was no. She didn't know what had happened, but the Ministry wouldn't have allowed it to go this far if they were able to do anything. Hermione had never had a problem with her parents knowing she was a witch. They were just as proud of her as ever. They had not looked down on her in any way, like Harry's aunt and uncle had. She'd always been familiar with the theory that Muggles would hate them if they found out, but perhaps she'd been too deluded by her parents' reaction to really understand. And this theory becoming a reality was really quite a frightening prospect.  
  
"Yes, yes, of course," she murmured. "I really need to go." Without saying anything else, she turned and ran towards the steps of her house.  
  
She heard Mrs. Lattice turn and go back into her own yard, muttering about kids being rude and inconsiderate these days. Hermione was in a combination of panic and shock. One thought shone through as she bounded up the porch steps-surely her parents would have heard the news that Mrs. Lattice had just told her and they'd have certainly come to the same conclusion she had. They were sure to be worried about her, particularly if they heard this story from Mrs. Lattice. Though she could not tell them the truth because of Voldemort's spell and Draco's absence, she could probably use this to get them out.  
  
She pulled open the screen door and turned the handle. It was locked. She groaned to herself, bouncing on her heels with anticipation and fear. She wanted to see her parents more than anything, wanted to talk to them and find some comfort that she had not been able to find anywhere else in a long time. However, standing there on her porch felt almost like a crime. She felt like getting this close was too easy and that she'd alerted some alarm. Like the Death Eaters were going to swoop down on her any moment. Glancing around herself, all she saw were the usual sights and all she heard was the wind and the sound of Mrs. Lattice's metal rake scraping the ground across the street. Eerily, this scared her even more. The closer she got to the door and to her parents, the more of hurry she was in.  
  
She pounded on the door loudly, her heart in her throat, hope surging through her. Dark thoughts flew across her mind every now and then, about her parents and Voldemort, but she chased them all away. She was too close to fail. She got no answer from the house. She continued to pound, over and over, for at least two minutes. Finally, she stopped, knowing that she was doing herself no good.  
  
Hermione glanced once more at the door, and then bounded down the steps, running over to the garage. She peered in through the windows in the closed garage door. Her father's car was there, as was her mother's. She felt her stomach sinking, and tears rising in her eyes. There was no possible way that her parents could be there and not have heard her. It was also highly unlikely that they'd gone with someone else anywhere. Not on a workday. Her father, at least, would be in the office. If it was busy, her mother would be, too.  
  
She had to get into the house. She knew that a sight she wouldn't want to see might lie there, but she refused to accept anything until she had proof. Maybe they were just gone. Maybe the cars weren't working for some reason and maybe they'd walked somewhere. With all this weird stuff going on and with their knowledge that it may be connected to their daughter, they might have gone to try and see some of it with their own eyes. She didn't know, but there had to be an explanation.  
  
A memory hit her, one which left her feeling very stupid. In her panic, she had forgotten entirely about the key her mother had hidden under the plant on their porch. If it was still there, she could get in.  
  
As she rushed back towards the porch, she heard Mrs. Lattice call, "Is something the matter?"  
  
"No," she lied, but paused suddenly. "Mrs. Lattice, have you seen my parents at all today?"  
  
She looked oddly suspicious of that question but answered anyway. "No, dear, I can't say I have. I've been out here all morning working on the garden and they haven't left or come. Why, haven't you?"  
  
"No reason," she replied, her worries becoming so dark and ugly that she could no longer even try to ignore them. She knew she could count on Mrs. Lattice to give her good information on such things. If she said her parents hadn't left . . .  
  
She forced herself to walk back to the porch, which wasn't hard. Her apprehension of what she would find inside made her hesitate before moving the potted plant and picking up the key. She turned it in her hands, praying it wouldn't lead her to something terrible. She opened the screen door once more, this time inserting the key into the lock and turning it. There was a faint click and she turned the handle.  
  
Hermione stepped inside. The house was darkened and most the curtains were closed. There was a fire roaring brightly in the fireplace and Hermione could easily see why, as it was chilly outside. The house was in its usual neat, clean order and she saw nothing out of the ordinary, with the exception of her parents' absence. She searched all through the house, but there was nothing. To her relief, there were no bodies, but there didn't seem to be anything else, either. She checked the kitchen and saw that there were the remains of coffee in the coffeepot on the counter. She felt the side of the container and could feel the slightest bit of warmth. They'd been here this morning then. A little voice in the back of her heard reminded her dully that it had been only that morning that Lucius had threatened to kill them.  
  
She knew there was no point in remaining; she needed to go back to Draco so they could continue on to find Harry and Ron. However, though she knew not whether her parents were alive or dead, she felt as though she'd already been told the grim news. She sank down onto the couch and stared at the flames in the furnace. Her hope had piqued and then she'd lost it all. All she wanted to do was sit there. In the back of her mind, the knowledge that she'd spent too much time there already was stored, but she really didn't care.  
  
She looked to the brick ledge that was positioned above the fireplace, where her mother kept some antique vases. One of them had been knocked down and was lying on its side. Hermione, almost on autopilot, stood and picked up the vase, setting it back up correctly. It was instinctive for her. There had been no real thought involved and she'd come to realize during this year that things that happened consisting of no thought were the best.  
  
Hermione looked at the ledge, which her mother usually kept neatly dusted. Instead, there was a large amount of greenish dust. She frowned and picked some up and rolled it in between her fingers, getting its texture, until all of it had sifted back down onto the ledge. She looked carefully at the dust pile and realized it was not a pile at all. Rather, it formed the unique shape of a hastily formed, but nonetheless recognizable, W.  
  
It had been left deliberately, Hermione knew. It was no accident that a pile of dust in the shape of a W sat on the mantle. Why, though, she did not know. She picked up some more of the dust and examined it carefully. She had a thought, though she had no real idea whether or not it would work. She shrugged. It couldn't hurt to test.  
  
This time, she made sure that the dust remained cupped in her hand and she stepped back, staring into the flames. She looked between the dust and fire, and then tossed the dust into the flames. They roared high and turned a vibrant emerald green.  
  
"Floo Powder," she whispered to herself. She'd suspected it might be, but had held out no real hope. Now, she was beginning to think. She moved forward to where the W was. There was still enough dust left to make out what the letter was. Hermione hesitantly ran her hand over it, smearing the letters away and leaving nothing but a pile of dust. She then swept the pile into her hand and dumped it into an empty vase. She did her best to get it all and when she had gotten most of it, she retreated.  
  
Hermione knew that the Death Eaters could have come by Floo Powder, but she felt that this was not right. It wasn't their style and the Floo Network wasn't connected to Muggle homes. There was nothing even they could do about that. Someone had to have connected it. Then they'd left the W in the dust as a message, hoping she'd find it. It was a very discreet message that could easily have been missed, but she understood why it had been left that way. They, too, had been wary of unwanted visitors and didn't want the message found by an unfriendly source. Hermione had not wanted to take the risk of anyone else discovering it now that she had and that was why she'd swept it away.  
  
Mrs. Lattice hadn't seen her parents leave the house and their cars were still in the garage because they'd left by Floo Powder. She was still uncertain as to what the W meant, but she knew it had to have something to do with where they'd gone. A wizard had to have come for them for some reason.  
  
No longer did she want nothing more than to sit down. A new power seemed to be surging through her veins. Her parents were alive-- she knew it. If the Death Eaters had been here and found them, then they'd have just killed them. They would not have bothered with kidnapping them first. She felt relief at this. Though Hermione had yet to find out who took them and to where, she felt that she could most likely count them as safe for the moment. Voldemort was most likely too preoccupied with her and Draco and Harry to worry about a petty threat right now.  
  
Hermione decided to go back. She had to find Harry and Ron, now. If she was going to die-and if they didn't manage to shake off Voldemort, which was a frighteningly real possibility-she would at least help her friends and family out of danger first. Much as she hated to admit it, she needed to return to Draco. She wasn't good at Apparition and just doing it to go back scared her. She needed him for that, though not much else besides.  
  
She headed upstairs to her room, a place she would be able to envision very well. Again, it took her four tries before she managed to truly absorb herself in the desire to return. Coming here, it had been easy to want to. She didn't really want to go back. Finally, though, she managed to do it and the next thing she knew, she was back in the forest.  
  
Hermione had stepped into a war. Three Death Eaters, none of whom she recognized, were throwing curses at Draco, who was ducking behind a tree and holding them off with curses of his own, all of which they dodged.  
  
Hermione wound up Apparating right in the middle of the three Death Eaters, much to her horror. They all stopped, stunned and she whipped out her wand. Draco took advantage of this opportunity to scream, "Stupefy!" and one Death Eater fell.  
  
The other two snapped back into action. The one nearest to Hermione raised his wand, and Hermione knew that she was no match for him. She tried anyway, lifting her wand, but it was too late.  
  
"Stupefy!"  
  
A/n: Odd ending to one of my chapters, I know. However, this was the best place I could find to cut this chapter in two. It's not exactly half, but close enough. Next part should be up soon. Read and review! 


	14. Destiny's Reunions part two

A/n: Here you go, the fourteenth chapter. After the end of this one are the last . . . five chapters, I think. It's three on MW, but I'll have to break them up so I'm not sure how many exactly. All I can say is that from the end of this chapter on is my favorite part of the story. That's just me, though. I hope to have the sequel up sometime soon after the last chapter of this one is up.  
  
Chapter Fourteen: Destiny's Reunions--Part 2  
  
"Stupefy!"  
  
Draco, who'd watched the whole ordeal with shock since Hermione had arrived, saw her fall. He swore. Great, it was two against one again. He'd waited for Hermione too long and this group of Death Eaters had found him. He'd been holding his own-and steadily losing-for five minutes before she'd appeared. He was shocked she'd even managed to Apparate there and back without splinching herself. Of course, she'd done a good job of splinching herself from him when she'd Disapparated.  
  
The man turned his attention away from her. He recognized their tactic: take down both of them before worrying about finishing them off. He darted behind the tree he was using as a shield as a blue jet of light flew past him. He pointed his wand at Hermione and yelled, "Ennervate!"  
  
His Awakening Charm missed and Hermione remained limp and unconscious on the ground. He gave up on this tactic quickly. She was too far away and it would be too difficult to aim at her properly. He turned his attention back to the men.  
  
The next chance he got, he ducked out and yelled, "Impedimenta!"  
  
Both men stopped, frozen. He knew the spell would remain active for only a few seconds and he quickly raised his wand again, stunning them both. He gasped for breath, the encounter leaving him shaking lightly and exhausted. He walked over to Hermione and woke her up before falling into a sitting position on the ground.  
  
Hermione sat up and looked around, seeing the bodies laying on the forest floor and Draco, breathing hard, in front of her.  
  
"Fat lot of help you were," growled Draco as soon as he could talk without breathing in between every syllable.  
  
Hermione turned curt. "Oh, right, like I knew I was going end up Apparating right in the middle of a war zone! I was too busy worrying I might end up splinching myself. So sorry I was shocked into stillness."  
  
"The least you could have done is fought once you realized it," he muttered. She was about to retort angrily, but he cut her off. "Never mind, it doesn't matter. We have to get out of here. More are sure to be attracted after all this and I can't take another battle right now. Where are your parents?"  
  
"Great bedside manner, Malfoy," she informed him sarcastically. "I don't know where they are. They're not dead, but I don't know much else."  
  
"How do you know even that much?"  
  
Hermione hesitated and Draco just nodded, rolling his eyes. "You don't trust me. Fine, whatever, I don't care. Let's just go. Speaking of which, where are we going?"  
  
"To find Harry and Ron. And don't argue. The offer of leaving still stands. Go anytime you want, as I can Apparate myself, now." Despite her feelings toward Apparition, she refused to let Malfoy think she wasn't confident enough in her ability to do it-and in her ability to make it on her own.  
  
Again, he didn't reply. "Where are Potter and Weasley?" he asked irritably. "Please, try and make it somewhere I can Apparate to. I don't fancy being left behind again."  
  
"I don't know where they are, but I'm betting they're somewhere around Hogwarts," she informed him. "They will want to find me. In the Great Hall, Harry mouthed to me that he'd come back for me. He probably thinks I'm still in the castle."  
  
"So where do we Apparate to?" Draco snapped. "Come on, Granger, not a hard question."  
  
"Hogsmeade," she said finally. "We'll have to stay out of sight, as people think we're traitors, but it's our best bet. Harry and Ron might be there, and if they aren't, we can sneak onto Hogwarts grounds from there and look."  
  
Draco nodded without replying and grabbed her hand. She stiffened her fingers, seething with hatred. She knew why he was doing it, but she still did not like it. Now it was her turn to wait while Malfoy-much more quickly than she-went through the steps. A moment later, she found herself on the streets of Hogsmeade.  
  
Hermione felt herself settle a bit more as she looked down the road to where Hogsmeade was. They were standing on the street she, Harry, and Ron had taken the previous year to visit Sirius. She felt a bit safer here than she had in the forest. It was easier to be in a place she knew and recognized.  
  
Draco felt differently. "Let's go," he muttered in a low voice, glancing around at the fields surrounding them.  
  
She frowned. "What's wrong?"  
  
"Think, Granger. They took over Hogwarts. They've probably taken over Hogsmeade, too. It's not safe to be out in the open. We need to hide," said Draco seriously. "But where?"  
  
Hermione hesitated, but finally, knowing it was in her own best interest, she said it. "I know where a cave is. We can hide there until evening. Then we can sneak down and take a look around."  
  
Draco sighed and shook his head at her, murmuring something she did not hear under his breath. Finally, he muttered, "Whatever. As long as this cave place is safe, let's go."  
  
Hermione considered him, studying him through narrowed eyelids. She decided that she didn't really care about why he'd been acting annoyed and she wasn't in the mood for an argument. "Good," was all she gave him for a response. The two headed down the unpaved street away from Hogsmeade, Hermione in the lead.  
  
Hermione picked her way back to the cave, relying on what memories she had to guide her. While she walked, her mind was on such a wide variety of things, she was having trouble focusing. At least Malfoy was saying nothing; she liked him best when his mouth was shut. She wondered about Harry and Ron and hoped they were all right. She thought about how to go about finding them. She was simultaneously thinking about her parents, wondering where they were and if they were safe. Worries for the people she cared about plagued her; there was no escaping them. To top it all off, she was frightened of the Death Eaters and what they could be planning for her and Draco at this very moment.  
  
Her thoughts changed to all the things Mrs. Lattice had told her. It didn't take a genius to figure out that the Muggles were on the verge of finding out about them. There was no way to stop it at this point. Hard as she tried, Hermione found it beyond her imagination to picture a world where Muggles and wizards knew of each other and coexisted peacefully. It was even harder to imagine it now, in the midst of Voldemort's return. If Mrs. Lattice's reaction was any indication, the majority of Muggles would not accept Hermione's kind as people. They would be treated like freaks and targeted for attacks. The Muggles would be frightened of wizards and their fear would drive them towards anger and resentment. She felt quite sure that eventually, there would not only be a war between the wizards and Voldemort, but a war between wizards and Muggles, too. It was insane-it was unbelievable. If someone had told Hermione at the beginning of the year that anything that had occurred would happen, she'd have suggested their immediate placement in an institution. She'd come a long way in learning to suspend her disbelief and fears and focus more on taking action, but she could still feel that pinprick of denial on the far horizon of her mind.  
  
Hermione glanced at Draco from the corner of her eye. She needed to talk to someone, but not him. She'd sooner keep everything bottled inside for the rest of her life than open up even remotely to the traitor who had helped bring all this into play. She hated him beyond her deepest imaginings. No matter what he did to prove his loyalty to the Light side- if he were loyal, which she doubted-even if he killed the Dark Lord himself, she would never forgive him for what he had done. He'd helped her so far, but her anger went too deep to be swayed by those meager actions. There was no possible way to repay what had been taken from her at Draco's hands, and she would never forget that. Her life had been ripped apart so utterly and entirely that she could not forget it even if she had desired to do so.  
  
They reached the cave, both wheezing slightly at the exertion it had taken to climb the steep slopes of the mountain. However, even Draco admitted that the cave was well hidden and he had faith that they would not be found there.  
  
Hermione stepped inside and she remembered the hours she'd spent there just last year with Harry and Ron and Sirius. Sirius was long gone now, and the cave was left bare and deserted. The yellowed newspapers Sirius had stolen in his canine disguise had vanished and the bones that had been scattered around Buckbeak's area had been disposed of. It was as though the cave had never been inhabited. Hermione, knowing where Sirius was right then and understanding that Harry and Ron were also in grave danger, found this empty cave to be quite depressing and disheartening, but she said nothing.  
  
She leaned her back against the stone wall and slid down slowly until she was sitting. She turned her head, laying it back just enough so that it was against the rocky wall. She stared out at the late afternoon sun over Hogsmeade. They'd been too far outside the main part of it to get any real glimpse at what the village now looked like. She focused her eyes drowsily on the bright blue sky. It was cold, as it was still only mid-March, but she did not take notice. As she stared at the sun, which was dulled by wispy gray clouds, she felt her eyes gradually begin to close. She had gotten no sleep the previous night and only about an hour's worth the night before. It was hard to believe that just yesterday, Hogwarts had been taken over. Somehow, no matter how terrible things had become for her, she'd never actually imagined that they could take over Hogwarts. If only she had told Snape sooner, if she'd only been less of a fool, maybe Hogwarts would still be in Light control. Maybe she would still be up in her dorm. Anything would be better than this. Hermione remembered how she'd thought things couldn't get worse during the train ride to Hogwarts, after Malfoy had attacked her and after Ron had become so despondent from his brother's death. She'd thought the same thing after her involuntary involvement with The Key and then again after she'd been captured and tortured and initiated as Death Eater. She'd made the mistake of assuming the worst had occurred. Now she didn't bother. She didn't know how, but she knew their situation could get worse. She just prayed it would not.  
  
Before Hermione even realized it, she was drifting off to sleep, her heavy eyelids closing. She wasn't sure how long she'd sat there, dozing, but she snapped up quickly and suddenly. She looked around quickly, spotting Draco standing near the entrance to the cave, watching the still fields below. Hermione realized just how bad an idea falling asleep here could be. She didn't trust Draco to kill her while she slept. She wasn't sure why he would, but she'd long given up trying to guess why he did anything-it was too far beyond the comprehension of a single decent soul to understand Draco's mind. She also didn't want to give him the opportunity to sneak off for some reason. They were sure to encounter Death Eaters here and Draco would most likely know better how to handle such a situation, as he understood the way they worked.  
  
"So will Voldemort's orb thing just be getting a reading of Hogsmeade right now?" asked Hermione, trying to keep herself awake.  
  
He shrugged and did not look at her. "I don't know. Probably. It seems most likely. The next step down would be this mountain, which is too specific and the next step up would be England, which is too general."  
  
"They shouldn't find us here," said Hermione quietly, her desire for sleep betraying her in her voice. "This place is really hard to locate, if they even knew it was here."  
  
He finally turned to look at her, studying her without expression. "If you're tired, you can sleep," he informed her in a toneless voice. "I'll watch."  
  
"I'm not tired," she snapped. She could see the doubt displayed on his face and settled for modifying her response. "And even if I were, I am not going to sleep." She stood, shaking her hair-which was growing tangled and unmanageable-back behind her. "If you're awake, I'm awake."  
  
He shrugged and turned his attention back to the far away fields. "Do as you please."  
  
The hours passed slowly and tediously. It seemed as though the minutes enjoyed taunting her in her anxious state and were deliberately taking their time. It was torture to stay in the cave, knowing of the catastrophic events taking place outside. She stayed on her feet and paced the cave uncomfortably. Even standing she was tired, and she didn't trust herself not to fall asleep should she sit down. Hunger plagued her as well as sleepiness. She'd eaten very little in many hours. Her stomach growled painfully, but she fought off the hunger spasms. She'd long since learned to do so. Draco said nothing more to her, which was the one upside to everything. She spent the hours losing herself in her thoughts. Hard as she tried, she could not think of any productive way to search for Harry and Ron. Even if they still were on Hogwarts grounds, the grounds were huge. She couldn't very well just go onto the grounds and start calling their names. The more she thought, the more hopeless and impossible the task seemed to get.  
  
Finally, Draco spoke. "It's dusk," he informed her shortly. He had not moved from his position by the cave entrance once.  
  
Hermione, who'd been thinking too hard to glance up at the sky, realized he was right. The sun had disappeared beyond the distant horizon, and all that was left were the last fading red streaks. The sky was stained a deep blue with swirls of dark purple clouds running through it. The moon was beginning to make an appearance and the barest glints of stars were starting to become noticeable.  
  
She stopped pacing and walked over to where he stood. She looked down and saw that the street was still deserted, as it had been when they'd first come in. She felt nerves twisting her stomach in knots, but she took a deep breath, trying to calm herself. This was what she'd been waiting for. The time had come. She couldn't lose it now.  
  
"What are we going to do?" asked Hermione. She hated admitting that she had not been able to come up with a plan in all the hours that they'd been there, but she swallowed her pride temporarily.  
  
"Don't worry," Draco told her, not moving. "I have a plan to help you find your precious Potter and Weasley."  
  
She let his last comment slide, focusing on his earlier words. "What plan?" she demanded. "I'm not going into any plans you've made up without knowing exactly what they are."  
  
Still, he did not face her. "Our best bet for finding them is getting a place to start. We'll ask a Death Eater where they were last seen. It's bound to be news around here. Everyone wants to do what Voldemort orders them to, and high on his top priority list is finding Harry Potter."  
  
"Yes and even higher on his priority list is finding us," Hermione shot back. "You think we can just walk up to a Death Eater and ask them? They're sure to know of everything we've done by now, and to count you as a traitor."  
  
"Yeah," agreed Draco. "But some people are too dense to react to seeing a traitor until it's too late. Some people will be easy enough to manipulate into giving us the information we need. All we need to do is find those people."  
  
"What people? Surely none of them can be that stupid! And how will we know if we find one who is?" demanded Hermione. Her plan of wandering the grounds aimlessly sounded better than Draco's idea.  
  
"Oh, there are definitely people that dumb. You just have to know who to look for. And it just so happens that I do. So just follow me, Granger, and keep the hood of your robes pulled low. Hopefully it will be too dark for anyone to see our faces, but we can't risk it." His eyes settled on the middle of her robes. "Gryffindor robes," he muttered, staring at the Gryffindor lion. "Turn them inside out before we go. They'll kill us if they see you wearing robes like that."  
  
Hermione, still doubtful and wary, pulled off her robes and turned them inside out. Once this was done, she pulled up her hood, noticing Draco had done the same. "Let's go," he said quietly a moment later.  
  
The two seemed to have an unspoken agreement to say nothing. They scrambled down the mountainside in silence and by the time they reached the dirt road once more, the sun had gone down entirely, leaving only an unnatural bright tinge to the blue sky that was fading away quickly.  
  
Draco led the way this time, which Hermione was uncomfortable with. She wondered where he was going, but the answer to that soon became apparent. He was leading them directly down the path towards Hogsmeade. Her eyes widened under her hood. Did he really plan on just walking into Hogsmeade?  
  
Apparently, he did. He continued to lead them down the path. Hermione tried to protest once or twice only to be silenced by him or ignored entirely. Soon, they came upon the first shops and Hermione knew Draco had been right when he'd speculated that the Death Eaters had taken over. Most shops were dark and many had windows broken out or burn marks on the outsides. Death Eaters prowled the streets. A few shops had light pouring from them. One of these was the Three Broomsticks. Draco headed directly for it.  
  
"You're mad," she hissed at him. "We can't go in there! We'll be recognized and captured!"  
  
"Just be quiet and let me handle it," he replied curtly, saying no more. Hermione hesitated when the reached the door, she ducked her head so her face was obscured. She was beginning to wonder how honorable Draco's intentions were-what if he was deliberately leading them into a trap? What if she was being a fool and falling for yet another scam?  
  
Draco did not enter the Three Broomsticks, instead standing outside and peering in a window. Hermione watched from further behind him, but she could see the grim sight inside. Instead of the pub being filled with happy witches, wizards and the usual assortment of other creatures that usually took up the tables, everyone seated was a black-robed Death Eater. Most appeared quite drunk, but there were those who were perfectly conscious, pacing the outsides of the room, watching silently. Madam Rosmerta was there, but she was not smiling and talking with the customers like usual. Instead, she appeared quiet and withdrawn, her eyes downcast, muttering unheard words to the men who called for refills. It was obvious she was being forced to remain there. Hermione felt sympathy for her.  
  
Draco took no notice of what Hermione did. He was looking for only two people. He scanned the crowds until finally his eyes landed on his desired targets. He let a slow, nasty grin form on his lips. "Bingo," he whispered.  
  
"You've found who you're looking for, then?" Hermione asked. "Good, can we go? We're far too exposed. It's making me nervous."  
  
"I figured they'd be here," he continued, ignoring Hermione. "The pigs spend all their time here on Hogsmeade visits, gorging themselves sick. Good thing this place is still running, or I'd have not known where to look. Now all we've got to do is wait them out." He backed away from the window and dodged into the small alley between the Three Broomsticks and the darkened shop next to it. Hermione followed.  
  
It was a much deeper blackness that enveloped them now. No light was there to cut through the darkness, and they retreated to the farthest and darkest of shadows to wait. When they were crouched behind some garbage cans in the back of the alley, Hermione spoke up.  
  
"Who are we waiting for?" she growled. "I've put up with your secrecy long enough, Malfoy. Just tell me."  
  
"Crabbe and Goyle," replied Draco, watching the street avidly. "The two thickest people on the face of the planet. They may be strong, but they have no brains. They relied on me to do all the thinking for them. When they come out they'll be alone and we'll get a chance to grab them. All we have to do is jump out and stun them and the two oafs won't know what hit them. I knew their fathers were positioned here, so I figured they'd be here, too. Dunno what I would have done if they weren't."  
  
"And how do you plan to make them tell us anything?" asked Hermione, still not liking the sound of the plan, though it was much clearer to her than it had been before.  
  
He turned his eyes from the street and raised his eyebrows at her. "Its Crabbe and Goyle. Keep your hood down so they don't know it's you and say nothing. I'll question them. They depend on me-they kiss up to me like they do to Voldemort. They'll answer my questions. I doubt that they've even correctly interpreted the information about us that's sure to have been spread around by now."  
  
Hermione didn't like the sound of it, but she kept her mouth shut. Draco's plan just might work and if it did, they'd be a lot better off than they would be just wandering. They waited for half an hour and by the time Draco perked up, Hermione's legs had gone numb with stiffness from crouching so long. She forced herself to jump up with him, despite the pain in her knees. She pulled out her wand and the two stared at the alley. She knew what he'd heard-the tavern door had opened and he was getting up just in case. This had already happened three times, but Hermione continued to follow him up every time.  
  
This time, they were in luck. Crabbe and Goyle came into sight a moment later and Hermione and Draco raised their wands, sending Stunning spells straight at them. The two boys were too slow to move in time-Hermione doubted they'd even seen the jets of light coming towards them. All she knew was that moments later both were lying unconscious on the street.  
  
Draco went around Hermione and ran out to the street. Hermione followed, though slower. Draco was grabbing Crabbe's arms and dragging him back into the alley. "Get Goyle," he grunted as he tugged Crabbe along. "We can't leave them out here-they'll be found and so will we."  
  
Hermione reached down and grabbed Goyle in the same fashion. He was dead weight and it was near impossible to pull him along. In the end, Draco had to come and help her get him all the way to the back of the alley.  
  
Finally, they had the unconscious boys in the back of their alley. Both were gasping from pulling them, but Hermione got right to the task. She wanted desperately to find Harry and Ron and the two boys just might hold the key to doing it.  
  
"We'll only wake one," said Draco at last, after having caught his breath. "If we wake both, they might overpower us. Keep your wand on him and I'll keep him pinned against a wall. Say nothing to him. I think I'll wake Crabbe. Goyle's probably stupider, but he might be too dumb to remember any news he's heard about Potter."  
  
Hermione nodded, holding her wand out, pointed directly at the boy Draco was pointing his at. "Ennervate!" whispered Draco and a moment later, Crabbe began to stir and groan.  
  
Draco wasted no time. He grabbed the boy and pulled him to his feet, shoving him hard against the outer tavern wall. Crabbe blinked in the darkness and squinted to try and see the face of his attacker. Hermione kept her wand on him.  
  
Draco reached up and pulled his hood down, revealing his face. Crabbe's eyes widened and he stared for a moment, apparently stunned. Draco started in on him. "Why, hello Crabbe. Long time no see."  
  
"You," grumbled Crabbe. "You betrayed us all!"  
  
"Yeah, I might have," snarled Draco. "But you will still answer my questions or I will kill you. Do you understand that?" Crabbe nodded quickly. "Good. I want information on Harry Potter. What's the latest on him?"  
  
"I can't tell you!" grunted Crabbe. "The Master will be angry. He'll hurt me . . . kill me even . . ."  
  
"You don't listen well, do you, Crabbe? I'll kill you if you don't tell me what I want to know and believe me, right now, you have a better chance facing Voldemort. So answer my question. What's the latest on Harry Potter? Where was he last spotted?"  
  
Crabbe appeared stumped for a moment. He glanced out at the empty street below, listening to the faint strains of yells and drunken laughter coming from the tavern. Draco read his mind and smiled evilly.  
  
"Want to yell, Crabbe?" he taunted. "Be my guest. No one will hear you. That lot in there is drunk as hell. Even if they did hear you, they wouldn't be able to locate you in time. Not even the sober ones would get here in time to save your miserable life. Two little words, Crabbe, that's all it takes for me to end it all. And don't think I won't kill you-after all, I've still got Goyle. Maybe he'd be a bit more willing. Why don't I switch to him, hmm?"  
  
Panic came to Crabbe's eyes and he made up his mind quickly. "Okay, I'll tell you. A group of us saw that red-haired Weasley kid that's friends with Potter at the edge of the forest at dusk. We chased him, but didn't catch him."  
  
"That all? Nothing else?"  
  
"No."  
  
Draco studied him. He nodded to himself, apparently believing him. "Where was Weasley spotted?"  
  
Crabbe struggled for words, apparently unsure. "By the gamekeeper's hut, I think. He was trying to get in."  
  
Draco continued to nod, and then raised his wand without warning. "Thanks for the help, Crabbe," he said seriously. "Stupefy!" Crabbe went limp and Draco dropped him, letting his head hit the cobblestone without a backwards glance.  
  
He turned to Hermione, who'd done as Draco had instructed, remaining silent. "Told you they were thick," Draco informed her matter-of-factly. "That's the best I can do. We'll search the forest around that Hagrid's hut, then."  
  
Hermione nodded and looked down at the two boys. "I thought you were going to kill him," she said quietly. She'd had a strong feeling he was going to. She'd always detested Crabbe and Goyle and hated them even more for being Death Eaters. Still, she hadn't wanted them to die. She'd seen enough death to last her a lifetime. She just wanted it all to end.  
  
Draco shrugged. "I considered it. Way I figure, though, Voldemort will find out what they said. Then he'll do it. Works out the same."  
  
Hermione felt disgust at Draco again. How could he so easily talk about two people he'd known for five years being killed? Hermione knew people she had been friends with once and no longer liked, but if any of them were about to be killed, she'd try to stop it. She shoved the thoughts from her head. She had enough to worry about.  
  
Draco, who'd waited impatiently through the long silence became annoyed. "Look, we need to go," he warned. "Not safe to stay here with them. We need to get to the grounds and the forest before dawn. Can we leave?"  
  
Hermione agreed and they set off. The streets were dark and bare and Hermione jumped at every shadow she saw, unsure of whether they were about to be ambushed. It had seemed far too easy up to this point.  
  
Just as they were leaving the village in the direction of Hogwarts, they were stopped by two robed Death Eaters. They demanded to know their names and their business at Hogwarts. Draco had panicked. He knew they were trapped. He whipped out his wand and Hermione followed suit, though she was much more apprehensive.  
  
The Death Eaters, realizing their intent, raised their own wands. Draco stunned one of them right away and though Hermione got the other one, she only managed it after he'd shouted and after getting hit by the Numbing Curse. Immediately, her legs went numb and she collapsed, unable to stand. Draco jerked her roughly to her feet, and put his arm around her shoulders in an effort to help her move.  
  
"I don't know the counter-curse," he gasped as he supported her and began to move. "He shouted-more will be coming in a little bit. We have to get out of here. This curse should wear off. You'll slow us down, but at least we'll be moving."  
  
Hermione's legs felt no better and having to use Malfoy for support to walk sickened her deeply. However, she held her tongue, knowing she'd rather allow him to drag her along than to be left there. They traveled for about five minutes before Hermione had any feeling in her legs. So far no Death Eaters had caught up with them, but that was most likely because they had doubled back behind Hogsmeade. She'd seen Death Eaters running towards the Hogwarts grounds. They would have a much harder time getting into the forest now.  
  
She could hear Draco panting from exhaustion at having to practically carry her. She knew they could not stop-they were in wide-open fields now and were easy targets, even moving. She felt her foot scrape across the ground and tried to move it. It didn't move much, but slowly, the feeling was coming back. Soon, though her legs still felt wobbly and unsteady, she was able to run on her own.  
  
Hermione had been too distracted by the Death Eaters shooting at them and the numbness in her legs to realize their destination before, but as she looked up now, she saw they were indeed on Hogwarts grounds. They were behind the lake, standing behind a few trees. Draco had crouched on the ground, gasping and peering out of the shadows and the commotion on the Hogwarts grounds. Every Death Eater there had surely been alerted by now.  
  
Draco was gasping and even his breathing sounded dry and rattled. Hermione could feel the dryness in her own throat and realized for the first time just how long it had been since she'd last had anything to drink. Draco appeared to be thinking along the same lines. He peered from around the bushes, and then dropped to his hands and knees, crawling around them. Hermione watched him crawl the short distance to the edge of the lake and drink the water from his cupped hands. He did this at least seven times before he appeared satisfied and crawled back. He nodded to her, then pointed at the lake.  
  
Hermione did what he had and crawled to the edge of the lake. She could feel her heart pounding in her chest, but knew that if she didn't get something to drink she would not be able to run another step. She kept her eyes on the Death Eaters, but they weren't looking in her direction. When she reached the lake, she made a cup of her own hands, trapping water between them and raising them to her mouth. The lake water was dirty and odd tasting. When she'd finished drinking, she could feel the bits of dust crunching between her teeth and made a face, but she drank again and again. It was better than the water she'd had to drink from the bucket in the prison Lucius Malfoy had kept her in over Christmas. Also, it had been a wonderful feeling to quench the scratchy dryness and it made her thirsty for more. It took her ten times of cupping her hands and drinking what water she'd managed to catch before she was ready to stop. She crawled back behind the bushes.  
  
"We're just going to have to make a break for the forest first chance we get," declared Draco once she'd returned, shaking his head and looking deflated. "It was risky enough before, but this is near suicide."  
  
"We have to try," insisted Hermione.  
  
He scowled at her. "Who said anything about not trying? I'm simply stating that it's become much harder since you were kind enough to slow us down so much."  
  
"How dare you-"  
  
"Just shut up. Run now!"  
  
Hermione, angry but knowing this may be her one chance, leaped up after him. He picked his way around the lake, dodging behind every tree they saw. Hermione saw that most of the Death Eaters looked distracted by the arrival of one Death Eater on the grounds that was calling for their attention. She could see why Draco had chosen right then to run-it would be their best chance. They'd made it around the lake and were nearing the forest when the first jet of light streaked by them.  
  
Both stopped, looking back. Sure enough, the Death Eaters had spotted them. Spells were streaming through the air like low fireworks now and Hermione, almost instinctively, dropped to her stomach. Draco followed suit and they waited there for a few moment, trying to crawl toward the forest, which was now so close it seemed to be taunting them.  
  
They didn't make it halfway before Draco dropped and lay motionless. She went still and rigid. The beams of light stopped for a moment. Hermione knew he must have been stunned-or killed. The second possibility shocked her, but didn't sadden her all that much. She jumped up and made one last dash for the tree line while the Death Eaters were momentarily hesitant, unsure of if they'd hit both of them or not.  
  
Hermione reached the cover of the trees and looked back. Death Eaters were surging forward now like one entity-a sea of black. They'd stopped using their spells, knowing that Hermione was out of their reach. She could now see the leader-the one who'd called them all into a group-clearly. It was Lucius Malfoy. Fear grabbed at her as it always did at the sight of him, but she fought it down. She stared at Malfoy's motionless form and knew she couldn't run and leave him. Certainly, he'd have done it to her, but he had saved her back in Hogsmeade when she'd been hit by the Numbing Curse. She had the morals he didn't and she wouldn't sink to his level. She couldn't leave without trying to help him.  
  
She took careful aim at him with her wand, knowing this would be her only chance to actually hit him. When she was sure she would hit him, she whispered, "Ennervate!" Hermione did not know if it would work or not. If he was dead, it wouldn't. But if he had just been stunned, then it would save his life.  
  
Her aim was true. A moment later, Hermione saw him begin to stir. She felt no happiness or sadness or any other emotion. She couldn't honestly say she'd have lost any sleep over the death of Draco Malfoy. The only reason she'd even bothered to waken him was because he'd saved her-though honestly, he didn't deserve it.  
  
Draco sat up and looked around, rubbing his skull, which was pounding. His vision was fuzzy at first, but then it cleared and he saw the mass of Death Eaters. His eyes widened and he leaped up. He ran for the forest. He was slow at first, his mind still muddled from the aftereffects of the spell, but he managed to reach it safely.  
  
"Malfoy!"  
  
He turned and looked to the source of the voice. It was Hermione. She was jumping up from where she'd been hiding. "Let's go," she said flatly.  
  
They ran on in silence. They could hear the Death Eaters crashing after them, and they did not stop for a long while. Finally, Hermione could go no further, a stitch in her side digging at her so painfully that had she taken another step, she'd have collapsed.  
  
"Stop," she finally gasped. "I can't go on any further. I have to rest."  
  
Draco actually seemed to consider her plea. He turned and looked back in the direction they'd come. "I don't hear them any more, anyway. They're still out there and we can't stay here long, but you can rest for a minute. Just keep quiet."  
  
Hermione fell to the forest floor, gasping for any breath she could and clutching her side in pain. Draco was silent for about a minute, but seemed to forget his own warning to her. "So you saved me out there, did you?" he asked quietly, masking his voice so it contained no emotion as he was used to doing.  
  
"You could say that," she replied shortly.  
  
He could tell she did not want to say anything more, but he continued anyway. "So, I guess we're even now." He looked at her and knew he'd made a mistake.  
  
Her eyes flashed and in an instant, they were narrowed and she was on her feet. "Don't think we'll ever be even, Malfoy," she hissed. "It doesn't matter how much you do for me. You can't give me back what you took from me and it will never be regained." She pulled up her left sleeve and pointed angrily at the mark. "As long as this mark is on my arm, I can't forgive you. The only reason I saved you was because you saved me back in Hogsmeade. Because I have a conscience, something you've probably never heard of. So don't ever say we'll be even again. Don't even think it."  
  
She turned and began to walk deeper into the forest. She was still clutching the stitch in her side, but she said nothing, holding her head high with as much dignity as she could muster. Draco watched her and all his normal, immediate feelings came up. He was angry-he'd risked his own life to save her! He'd also risked his life back at Malfoy Manor, trying to help her feed her stupid fantasy of freeing everyone. How could she not forgive him?  
  
He was shocked, though, to discover that the more he thought about it, the more of his anger seemed to seep away. It was his fault any of this was even happening, he found himself realizing. She had a right to be mad, to not trust him or forgive him. This realization was like a slap in the face to him and numbly, he started to walk after her, just as confused as ever.  
  
**************  
  
"What is going on?"  
  
"Dunno, but it doesn't sound good."  
  
Harry, Ron, Fred, and George were crouched under a large pine tree, watching silently from their positions. They'd had a hectic day. They hadn't been able to find the rock overhang where Harry and Ron had spent a sleepless night the evening before and had instead settled for a large pine whose branches were so long and unruly they hit the ground and masked the trunk. Beyond the branches was a cozy and hidden-while slightly cramped- hiding place.  
  
They'd argued most of the day about how to take action against the Death Eaters and how to get inside the castle. Fred and George had suggested the secret passage in the cellar of Honeydukes. The only trick was reaching Hogsmeade. They had sent Ron out to the edge of the forest to see the kind of forces they were up against and he had been spotted. They'd chased him deep into the forest again and it had taken him another two hours to find his way back to them. By that time, they'd thought he'd been captured and he'd only just reached them in time to stop them from going out to look for him themselves. While they'd been unsuccessful the first time, they held onto the hope that they'd be able to escape the forest's confines and reach Honeydukes.  
  
They had planned to try again late that night, after midnight. They hoped that the Death Eaters would be less on guard so late and that they would be sleepy and clumsy. However, as they'd all been sitting under the pine, talking quietly about what they'd do if they did manage to enter the castle, when shouts had filled the forest around them.  
  
It sounded like many people running through the forest. All seemed to be quite in a hurry. The four boys quieted and listened intently, trying to hear what they were saying. Harry's heart was pounding in his chest, praying that it wasn't them they were after. Why would they be in such a sudden hurry? All the other patrol teams they'd run into had been walking, at least, not rushing as though their lives depended upon it.  
  
"They must have come this way-"  
  
"They'd better have! Because this is one time too many. The Dark Lord will have us for this if we don't catch them soon!"  
  
"Yes, you're certainly one to talk, Lucius, judging on who it is we're chasing."  
  
Harry and Ron felt their breath catch in their chest as they listened to the passing Death Eaters' conversation. Lucius Malfoy was out there, so close to their hiding place, not even knowing that they were right under his nose.  
  
"Shut up, Macnair! I had no idea the boy was that daring. I thought he knew better. Well, he'll pay for it when I find them. Both of them will. They'll pay like they'd never imagined, not even in their darkest of nightmares . . ."  
  
The voices faded away and Harry, Ron, and the twins sat in silence, holding their breath, for several long minutes afterward. Finally, when they felt as though the group had surely passed, Harry let out a breath he'd been holding. He looked at the three brothers in front of him. "Who were they talking about?" he breathed, completely confused.  
  
Ron shook his head, wide-eyed. "Not us. He said "both of them". He might be talking about you and I, or Fred and George, but it didn't sound like it. They made it sound like this was Lucius's fault somehow and our being here certainly has nothing to do with him. And he did say "boy". So at least one of the two he was speaking of is a guy."  
  
Fred and George just shrugged. Slowly, a mischievous and daring look dawned on Fred's face, which Ron did not like at all.  
  
"You know," said Fred slowly, "it could help us to find out. Whoever these people are, it sounds as though they are against the Death Eaters. Possible ally, which God knows we need. Why don't we just poke our heads, look around a little-" George appeared to be on the same wavelength as his brother, and nodded.  
  
Ron stared, flabbergasted, his mouth falling open. "You're crazy. Go out there and let them find us? Oh, fine. Why don't we go visit Aragog while we're at it, eh? And maybe we can go werewolf hunting too!"  
  
"Sarcasm does not become you, Ron," George told him seriously. He looked to Harry. "So, you on his side or ours?"  
  
Harry considered, and only one thought ran through his head. He nodded. "I'm with you." Seeing the betrayed look on Ron's face, he hurried to explain. "Listen, I know it's dangerous, but whoever these people are, maybe they know something about Hermione. I know it's a long shot, but it's our only shot. I have to take it."  
  
Ron slowly nodded and sighed, standing up. He had to duck in the tight space, so as not to hit his head on low branches. It was a comfortable place to sit, but not for standing. "Fine then," he growled dejectedly. "Let's go, before I change my mind."  
  
"You can always stay," said Fred in an offhanded voice, just to spite his brother.  
  
Ron glared and said nothing, pulling apart two branches and stepping out into the forest. Harry and the twins were right behind him. They picked the direction from which more yells in the distance were coming.  
  
They were careful to avoid stepping on noisy things if at all possible, and they dared not speak. The yells seemed to be getting closer, which didn't set any of them at ease. They might be closing in, sure, but it seemed unlikely that the source of the shouting would remain in one area. The other possibility was that not only were they moving towards the Death Eaters, but the Death Eaters were moving towards them, as well.  
  
They soon found a small group of black-robed men. It wasn't the same group with Lucius Malfoy that they'd overheard earlier, but a different, smaller group. Only three men were in it and they had their backs turned to the boys. Harry pulled them all down to the ground and watched from a crouched huddle. They were moving in the same direction Harry's group had been heading.  
  
"Let's follow them," he whispered to his friends. Ron looked even more horrified than when George had suggested their venture. "Maybe they'll lead us to the people we're looking for."  
  
They hid until the men were a safe distance in front of them and then came out, dodging behind trees and progressing slowly. They kept the men-or really, the men's lantern, as it was too dark to truly see them-in their sights, so they could follow, but came no closer than it was necessary. The forest was as frightening as ever and it seemed to be magnified in its terror tonight.  
  
Their silent pursuit of the Death Eaters stretched onward into a never- ending spiral of time. The deep blackness of the forest seemed to settle upon them more than ever, blanketing their shoulders in a cloak of fear and shadow. Yesterday, Harry had not noticed it so much-his worry for Hermione had left no room for the fear of the forest that usually tore at him whenever he entered it. While he was still worried for her and frightened for himself, the ongoing silence seemed to provide that fear with the opportunity it needed to seep into his brain once more.  
  
Finally, after at least an hour, Ron stopped, sighing angrily. "This is ridiculous!" he snarled quietly. "Seriously, we've never been on a wilder goose chase. Who says that this particular group of Death Eaters is going to be the one to lead us to these rebels they're apparently chasing? I give up, okay? On top of everything else, we've weaved our way through this forest so thoroughly that we're sure to have lost our nice hiding place. I'm sick of this. We'll find Hermione another way. Just give it up."  
  
Harry hadn't said anything, not wanting to look like he'd lost the faith that had fueled him to suggest they go along with Fred and George in the first place, but he'd been feeling the same way for over ten minutes. He nodded. "Yeah, you're right. We should just head toward the edge of the forest and see if we can get into Hogsmeade tonight."  
  
"I suppose we could," agreed George, but even in the dim light, Harry could see the uncertainty written on his face. "There's a problem, though."  
  
"And that would be?"  
  
"Where is the edge of the forest?"  
  
Harry stopped still. George was right. He had no idea which way was toward Hogwarts any longer. He looked forward, to where the Death Eaters had been, but even the light of their lantern was gone, now. They were completely on their own and lost in the Forbidden Forest.  
  
Ron swore. "Great! Just great. What a perfect ending to a perfect night of my perfect life."  
  
Fred cracked a grin at his younger sibling. "Lack of adjectives syndrome, Ron?"  
  
Ron was not amused, nor, did it seem, was George. Harry was too busy listening to the sounds coming from his right to hear them at all. Finally, he snapped, interrupting their argument, "Shut up! Something's coming from over there."  
  
Immediately, the twins and Ron fell silent, understanding the urgency in Harry's words. At first, all that could be heard was a vicious rustling of the leaves some distance to the right, but then came a boy's yell. The yell sounded angry and ferocious. A moment later, words were shouted: "Over here! I've got him!"  
  
Harry and Ron looked to one another and each could see the look in the other's eyes. There was no debating what they were going to do. There was no questioning who the boy was. This was the boy the Death Eaters had been searching for and they had gone through too much to find him to let their chance slip away.  
  
Harry turned to Fred and George, his mind racing. "Stay here," he whispered. "Ron and I are going to go and check this out. If we need your help, we'll come back. If not . . . we'll do what we can on our own. But this is a job for stealth and two people are better than four for a job like this. I know you two could go, but . . ."  
  
"Hermione," said Fred, understanding immediately. "Any chance you have to find her, you're going to take and be a part of. Ron, too. Completely understandable. Go on. Just be careful."  
  
Harry nodded, glad he did not need to explain his thoughts to them. He stood, Ron rising beside him. Without speaking, the two headed off in the direction of the yells, which were getting more and more frequent, and quickly more panicked as well.  
  
It didn't take them long to reach the source of the shouts. It turned out to be from a small clearing, hardly large enough to fit five people. Harry and Ron sank to their knees behind some trees on the edge of the clearing. They could see the struggle going on, but because of the darkness, not the people taking part in it.  
  
Two large figures had their backs to Harry and Ron, their wands pointing at a smaller figure, which must have been the boy. The boy was also firing curses, but he had no cover. For some reason, he appeared to be protecting a stand of bushes behind him. He wouldn't move far from it, and stayed in front of it as much as possible. They saw a possible reason a moment later- streaks of light would, every now and then, fire from the bottom of the bushes. At least one person was there, with a wand.  
  
One of the Death Eaters held a lantern, but the light was going anywhere and everywhere, as the Death Eater kept shaking it as he moved. However, the light finally glided across the face of the boy for just one second, giving Harry and Ron the chance to see who stood there. They felt their jaws drop.  
  
It was Draco Malfoy.  
  
Harry felt a confusing mixture of anger, hatred, uncertainty, and a desire to assist. He had no idea what was going on, or why Draco Malfoy was suddenly a hated enemy of the Death Eaters, but all the pieces fit. Lucius Malfoy had been looking for Draco earlier, hence the comment from Macnair about Lucius talking out of turn. It was his own son that was causing them the trouble. He hated Malfoy, even more since he'd seen him walk up those steps to the High Table besides Voldemort, but in whatever was happening right then, Malfoy wasn't their enemy. He was the enemy of the Death Eaters. Harry heard an old line echoing in his brain: The enemy of my enemy is my friend. There was suddenly no doubt it what he was about to do.  
  
He stood before Ron could even protest, and held up his wand. "Stupefy!"  
  
The men, not expecting an attack from behind, had no preparation for Harry's attack. One fell immediately. Ron, growling in distaste, stood up a moment later. He raised his own wand and yelled, "Petrificus Totalus!" The other man fell, all his limbs bound together, unable to move.  
  
Harry and Ron stepped forward, each with conflicting emotions. Harry had just saved Malfoy, his mortal enemy in more ways than one. He had no idea where he stood anymore. When an enemy becomes a possible friend, everything you know becomes uncertain and Harry felt that uncertainty gnawing at his brain as he let himself be seen.  
  
"Why'd you do that?" hissed Ron. "It's Malfoy! Only reason I helped is because you would have attracted the other guard's attention to us!"  
  
Harry didn't bother answering. He wasn't sure why he'd done it. Now that the initial panicked thoughts had disappeared, all he felt was confusion. Had he really made the right choice? Or should he have let Malfoy die? Had he made them an even more deadly enemy by saving him? Or had he done as he'd hoped and gotten them an ally?  
  
He entered the clearing, kicking one guard's arm out of the way and picking up the lantern, which had luckily not broken when it had hit the ground. Harry lifted it and Malfoy got a look at their faces. His eyes narrowed.  
  
"Potter," he growled in a low voice. He did not seem at all surprised to see them.  
  
"Malfoy," retorted Harry, his voice equal in vehemence and volume to Malfoy's.  
  
Then something happened that took Harry's and Ron's focus off Malfoy. The bushes Malfoy had been defending rustled and another figure came out, limping so badly it appeared to be hopping and moving forward in a slow, wary manner.  
  
"What's going on?" the figure asked in a startlingly familiar voice. "Who are you?"  
  
Harry felt his heart stop. Please, he begged silently, let it be true. He raised the lantern high enough so that the light spread to the distant shadows where the figure hovered. The light shone across its face and he felt a slow smile spread across his face. It was impossible, but it was happening.  
  
Hermione identified Harry and Ron at the same time they identified her. She was completely still for a moment, almost disbelieving, thinking perhaps her eyes were playing tricks on her.  
  
"Hermione," said Harry, looking as though all his dreams had come true. He said no more. He did not need to.  
  
Hermione broke from her shock at the sound of Harry's voice. She walked forward as quickly as she could on her bad ankle; the ankle that had been broken in the second desperate run she and Draco had just attempted to escape their pursuers. She reached Harry and threw her arms around him and he was more than happy to follow suit.  
  
A moment later, she could feel the tears rise in her eyes. It had only been a little over twenty-four hours since they'd last seen one another, but it seemed like years since they'd last actually seen each other for what they really were. She could almost not remember the times they'd been able to associate without some cloud of deceit and lies hanging over her, forming a thin wall between them. That wall was down now and she was more than happy to take advantage of that while she could.  
  
Hermione pulled away from Harry and he could see the tears running down her cheeks. He had some of his own burning behind his glasses. Both wore hesitant, uncertain smiles.  
  
"You're alive," he said in a quiet, thankful voice. "Are you hurt? What happened to your ankle? And what are you doing with Malfoy?"  
  
Before Hermione could even try to think of a simple, short answer to any of his questions, Ron came down on her hugging her and beginning to ramble about how worried they'd been for her and how confused they were to find her in the company of Malfoy, a Death Eater.  
  
At the last two words, Hermione froze and the smile disappeared from her lips. She backed out of Ron's embrace. She could feel the wall going up once more. She, too, was a Death Eater, but she couldn't even explain that to them, courtesy of Voldemort's interfering spell. In an instant, the wall was back up. She could tell Harry and Ron felt it too, because they stopped smiling as well.  
  
"Hermione, what's going on?" whispered Harry gently. He took a step forward, but Hermione looked away in a clear warning to come no closer. "We don't believe for a second that you're a Death Eater. Just explain what is happening."  
  
"But she is a Death Eater, Potter," Malfoy drawled from behind them, speaking for the first time since Hermione's appearance.  
  
"You hush up, Malfoy!" snarled Ron angrily. He'd seen the pained expression that had come across Hermione's face at his words and it had ignited a fury within him. "We don't know why you're here, but you're our enemy and if you say one single more thing to hurt Hermione, I'll come over there and finish the job these guys didn't manage." He kicked at one of the fallen men on the ground to illustrate what "guys" he'd been referring to.  
  
Malfoy shrugged, not looking the slightest bit abashed or scared. "Believe what you want, Weasley. But the Mark is there, on her arm. You both saw it. If you want a closer look, take one, but she is a Death Eater."  
  
"Why is he answering everything for you?" Harry asked Hermione, glaring at Malfoy over her shoulder. Hermione didn't meet his eyes and she opened her mouth to reply, but closed it again. He put a hand on her shoulder, and she looked up at him. "What's he done?"  
  
"More than you can ever imagine," she replied quietly and uncomfortably, surprised the spell allowed for her to say even that much.  
  
Harry's eyes flashed and he looked up at Malfoy. "What did you do to her?" he snarled. "Did you hurt her?"  
  
Malfoy rolled his eyes. "No new thinking with you, is there, Potter? No, I didn't actually hurt her. Not physically. It's just my fault she's in this whole mess." Draco had been keeping up his usual display of open detest for Harry when he realized exactly the way he'd said the last sentence. Hermione noticed, too.  
  
She spun to face him. "So much for all of your apologies!" she hissed. "I never believed you for a second and I certainly am glad I wasn't that much of a fool. Leave, Malfoy. We're separate, now. Our deal has been followed through. I'm with Harry and Ron, now, and you're on your own. Be glad I'm not going to kill you."  
  
Malfoy shrugged and turned away. "Fine, Granger. Have it your way." He started to walk back into the woods, and Hermione started to say something to Harry when a voice stopped them all dead in their tracks.  
  
"I don't think anyone is leaving here quite yet, children."  
  
Everyone recognized the voice without a moment's thought and they all turned to face the source of it. Albus Dumbledore stood at the far edge of the clearing. He stepped out of the shadows and looked at them all without smiling. His eyes were dead and hollow and he showed signs of fatigue and sadness. Harry had never seen him look so defeated.  
  
"Professor Dumbledore?" asked Hermione, the first one to manage any distinct vocal sound. "What are you doing here?'  
  
"That is not something I can explain to you here," he said quietly. "You must come back with me to a safe place. A place where the Death Eaters cannot track Hermione and Draco. Death Eaters close in on us now from all sides, nearing us as we speak. I would estimate we have one minute before they reach us and if they do, it is all truly over." He held up a dirty, torn dishtowel. "A Portkey. Come and touch it. It will leave upon my command."  
  
Harry, Ron, and Hermione, all uncertain of the reason for this, but full of trust for Dumbledore, headed for the Headmaster. Harry put his arm around Hermione's shoulders to support her as she walked, barely able to touch her injured ankle to the ground. She leaned into him gratefully. When they were all touching the dishtowel, they looked back. Draco was still hovering at the edge of the clearing, torn between going and staying.  
  
"You don't need me," he called over. "I'm the last person you need. Go on, and leave me. I'd rather be on my own, anyway."  
  
"What you want right now, I am afraid, is not relevant," Dumbledore informed him, an anger burning inside his eyes that none of them but Harry had seen before. "Unfortunately, we do indeed still need you. You may be one of the only ones that can stop what has begun to take place. You have helped put us in this mess, Mr. Malfoy; I am under no illusions about that. The least you can do is attempt to help us dig our way back out."  
  
Draco shifted from one foot to the other, a scatter of thoughts running through his head. The only thing that eventually made up his mind was a yell from a party of Death Eaters that sounded quite close. Fear drove him to run forward and place his hand on the dishtowel, muttering under his breath. He wound up standing between Ron and Hermione. Ron glared at him and Draco knew the only thing that kept him from punching him in the jaw was the imminent arrival of the Death Eaters. On his other side, Hermione edged away from him and closer to Harry, who was happy to put his arm around her protectively.  
  
Dumbledore pulled out his wand and tapped the towel with it three times. The Death Eaters arrived twenty seconds later to find nothing but two unconscious guards and a lantern tipped on its side.  
  
A/n: So, what did you think of the end? The next chapter is largely informational-it'll clear up some things and start the characters on their final journey . . . or is it? :-) Sorry, I'll stop being mystical and just say-r/r! 


	15. Destiny's Decision

A/n: Due to the amazing amount of reviews that poured in within one day of my update, I'm updating again! I'm glad you're all enjoying this, you're support and comments really make my day! There's some subtle romance in this. This story doesn't contain too much, it's the sequel that focuses more on that bit. I just couldn't see it as being plausible that Hermione would be open to such things due to the circumstances. In the sequel, time will have passed. :-) This is a good chapter for all of you Draco-haters out there. I have to admit, I loved writing this one!  
  
"We can't go on  
  
Just running away  
  
If we stay any longer  
  
We will surely never get away" --Artist Unknown  
Chapter Fourteen: Destiny's Decision  
  
Though it was Harry's second time traveling by a Portkey, it still left him with a feeling of disorientation and nausea for a few seconds after they'd arrived. One thing was better about this trip by Portkey than the last- they didn't end up in a heap on the floor this time, though Hermione did stumble on her ankle and would have fallen had Harry not caught her. Dumbledore saw this and he heard her cry of pain when her ankle hit the ground. He watched as Harry desperately tried to help her remain standing and as Ron rushed forward worriedly.  
  
"I'm fine," she said immediately once she was standing again. Her face, which was contorted in pain, said otherwise.  
  
"No, you're not," replied Harry gently. "Your face is white as a sheet. You're in a lot of pain, Hermione, that's nothing to be ashamed of."  
  
Before anyone could speak another word, Dumbledore cut in. "I shall heal your ankle, Hermione. However, I must ask you if you think you can hold out until we reach the room we are headed towards. If not, I can heal it here, but I have a feeling it would be much easier on you to be sitting down when I do it and as you see, there is no real place to sit in here."  
  
"I'll be okay," whispered Hermione, and Harry could tell that the impact on her ankle had not yet worn off by the way her jaw was clenched and tears were in the corners of her eyes. He refrained from saying anything, though he wanted desperately to ask how her ankle had been hurt.  
  
They noticed the room they stood in for the first time. It was large, but contained nothing but a door at the far end. The floor was made of icy concrete and the walls were made of white wood. There were no windows. Dumbledore led them all towards the door, though Hermione now needed the support of both Harry and Ron to move. Draco hung back, no emotions showing on his face.  
  
Dumbledore used a complex combination of spells to unlock the door. Once it was opened, he stopped in the doorway and looked back at them. "There are going to be other people down here," Dumbledore warned. "It is not our destination, but we must cross through it to get to the room we are looking for and I feel it will be best to introduce you to those there. You will recognize two of them, the third you'll have never seen and three others are missing from our midst." He said no more, turning and leading them all down a long, steep flight of stairs.  
  
It took Hermione longer to get down the stairs than the others and by the time they reached the bottom, Dumbledore had already called the occupants of the room to attention. Three people were seated at desks. There was a fire roaring in a nearby wall and the room was well lit by a lamp on each desk and two dimmer overhead lights. There were rugs in front of the fire and Harry thought it looked a bit similar to the Gryffindor common room, minus the students and the armchairs and books piled everywhere.  
  
What really caught their attention was the identity of the three people. One Harry recognized immediately to be none other than Remus Lupin. He looked up at them and smiled, though he looked quite troubled. Harry felt himself relax a bit at seeing his old professor, whom he'd liked quite a lot.  
  
"Hello, Harry," he said with a smile. "And you, Ron. Hermione, I do hope you're okay." His smile had vanished as he looked at her and there was nothing but concern written in his facial features. "You've been through a lot. It's a terrible pity we have to put you through more and I apologize for that."  
  
Dumbledore looked to Lupin. "I have not yet explained, Remus," he said gently. "Let's not get ahead of ourselves." Lupin nodded, still glancing regretfully in the direction of the trio every now and then.  
  
The second person was Arabella Figg, who had on an expression similar to Lupin's, but she said nothing. She flashed them a half smile before looking away, apparently unsure of what to say to them.  
  
The third was a man who had stood up at their arrival. None of them had seen him before, and Dumbledore introduced him as Mundungus Fletcher. He nodded and smiled at them. "It's good to meet you three," he said politely. "It's a pity it couldn't be under better circumstances."  
  
"I agree, sir," replied Harry, the only one of the four who spoke.  
  
Dumbledore looked at them all. "This group is of my own creation, called the Order of the Phoenix. We came together the last time Voldemort was strong, to do our best to fight him and it did help, though not nearly as much as we'd imagined. The members consisted of these three, along with three others. Sirius Black is another member, whom we understand is in Dark imprisonment right now."  
  
Hermione nodded, her eyes downcast. Harry's eyes widened in worry.  
  
Dumbledore watched her for a moment, then continued, choosing to say nothing. "The other two members were none other than Lily and James Potter." Harry's eyes widened even further and his mouth fell open just a little. "Yes, Harry, your parents helped a lot to fight him. I'd dare say they did the most damage of all of us. Hence the reason Voldemort went after them. The reason they were killed. I cannot apologize enough for that."  
  
Harry just stared for a moment before nodding. He'd never known his parents had had such an active role in the war against Voldemort. He felt an odd sense of pride at knowing his parents had at least died because they'd fought against Him and that their deaths hadn't just been an unfortunate casualty.  
  
"This will all be explained further, but not now. Now, our first priority is to heal Hermione, then we shall do our best to pick our way through a load of information we must cover."  
  
Dumbledore led them through the room and opened another door. This time, there were no stairs, which Hermione was grateful for. They entered a large room that was similar to Dumbledore's office at Hogwarts, only missing many things. There were fewer cabinets, less books, and Fawkes was absent. A desk stood at the center and there were chairs in many other positions around the room. Dumbledore didn't bother going and bringing them forward by hand, instead using a Summoning Charm to bring them all right in front of the desk. Hermione took a seat between Harry and Ron, thinking how similar this was to her old Key lessons.  
  
Once they were all sitting, Dumbledore walked over and knelt before Hermione. He looked up at her. "This will hurt," he warned, "but not nearly as much as your ankle, I daresay. The ankle will remain sore for another day or two, but other than that it will be healed entirely."  
  
Hermione nodded. "I know what the healing process for a broken bone is like," she informed him in a near-silent voice. Harry looked at her, knowing she'd never broken a bone at Hogwarts and not liking what that implied. She didn't meet his eyes.  
  
Dumbledore began to recite an incantation, holding his wand over her ankle. She bit her lip and her eyes were tightly closed, obviously in pain. Dumbledore quickly stood and walked to a shelf of potion bottles where he chose a small, triangular one. He returned, unscrewing the cap and pouring some of the gelatinous blue liquid into his hand. He rolled down Hermione's sock and Harry winced when he saw how swollen her ankle was. Dumbledore then rubbed the potion slowly and gently onto her ankle and continued to rub it until it was entirely dry. He said the incantation again and Harry could feel Hermione relaxing slowly next to him. Her breathing started to become normal again, instead of coming in gasps as it had been before and Dumbledore stood, putting away the potion. By the time he'd returned, Hermione was examining her ankle, which no longer looked swollen, just a little red.  
  
"That should do the trick," said Dumbledore and Hermione nodded, mumbling a thank you which Harry barely managed to catch. Somehow, Dumbledore heard it as well and smiled at her. He took his seat behind his desk and sighed wearily, peering out at them all from his half-moon spectacles. "Ah and now the hard part arrives," he whispered. "To be perfectly honest, I haven't the slightest idea where to begin. Any ideas?"  
  
Ron spoke up hesitantly. "I don't really have an idea, Professor," he said slowly, "but I need to say something. My brothers, Fred and George, they're back in the forest. They might have been captured-"  
  
"Your brothers are fine, Mr. Weasley," Dumbledore assured him. "My team is protecting them as we speak."  
  
"Protecting?" asked Harry, brow furrowed in confusion. "How?"  
  
"How do you four think you made it so far with so little interference from Dark?" Dumbledore questioned rhetorically. "You honestly did not think you managed all you have without some guidance."  
  
"I don't get it," Ron told him bluntly.  
  
"I have been watching you all ever since the attack on Hogwarts. I have a system similar to Voldemort's, only mine is more advanced. I can reach out to you and help you. I have guided you all. Ron, Harry, I have made it so nothing attacked you in the forest and so you had less encounters with Death Eater parties, though I could not stop them all. Draco, Hermione, I have helped you as well. I helped you make it out of the compound after freeing the prisoners and avoid attacks in the Red Forest. Hermione, I guided you when you Apparated, though it was certainly hard. You may be near a genius I.Q., but not even you could have managed Apparition twice with no prior practice without somehow messing up. That was quite difficult-I was afraid I would not be able to and you would end up splinching yourself.  
  
"I also guided you towards one another. Believe me, it was no lucky chance that you managed to find one another within a day of being separated. That took some serious work from my team and I. We've been working day and night to aide you."  
  
Hermione looked completely overwhelmed. "But why?" she asked. "I can see why you'd want to protect us, but not how. And why didn't you come to us sooner? Why didn't you just bring us all here instead of guiding us? Come to Malfoy and I, and to Ron and Harry? Dumbledore considered his answer. "It was why I guided you together. You had to all be in the same place for me to retrieve you. I needed all four of you and no one else. Because Hermione and Draco wear the Dark Mark, I could not summon them here without at least one other person who did not wear it. When Harry and Ron were with you two, I could bring you. It has to do with many anti-Dark Arts precautions I have taken over the years, too many to undo for just this one occasion. And the Dark Mark is one of the greatest figures of Dark Magic in existence."  
  
Hermione looked down at Dumbledore's words and Harry and Ron's eyes met. Both looked at Hermione with concern.  
  
Dumbledore continued. "This area is what you could call a zone that is free of Dark Magic. None can be used here and it is extremely difficult to get people who wear the Dark Mark in. We had to take down many barriers that defend this place to allow it at great risk." He looked pointedly at Hermione. "So, Hermione, you can speak freely here. Voldemort's spell does not affect you here, though it will once you leave. And he cannot trace you to this location. His Gazing Orb will have simply gone dark."  
  
Hermione appeared to have gone rigid for a moment before nodding. "I can?" she whispered, almost disbelievingly. It seemed a treat so great that it couldn't possible be true. He nodded, smiling encouragingly.  
  
"What do you mean, speak freely?" asked Harry, looking to Hermione.  
  
Dumbledore stood up. "That is something Miss Granger should explain to you. She should explain everything that has happened to her and you should explain what has happened to you. It will work better than coming from me. I will leave you for as long as you need. I will see about getting you some food. I am aware that none of you have eaten anything in over twenty- four hours." He looked at Draco and his eyes turned dark again. "Mr. Malfoy, you too shall leave them until they are ready." His tone allowed for no arguments and Draco stood silently and expressionless.  
  
Hermione stopped Dumbledore before he reached the door, her voice hesitant and wary, but hopeful at the same time. "Um, Professor?" He stopped and turned to her. "Is there any chance you can . . . I don't really think so, but . . . maybe . . . could you take his spell off me?" She said her last few words in a rushed way and her voice contained an unhidden, desperate plead.  
  
Dumbledore looked contrite. "No, Hermione, I am sorry, but I cannot." Her face fell in disappointment and he made an effort to explain himself. "Both he and I are two of the greatest, most powerful wizards alive-but we fight on opposite sides. Therefore many things conflict. There are spells and enchantments and hideaways-such as this one-that he cannot destroy, or attack. Likewise, there are things he does that I have no power to stop. The spell he has placed upon you is one example of this. Only his wand can remove the spell. No one else's. I am sorry." He looked at Malfoy, who hadn't moved. "Come, Mr. Malfoy," said Dumbledore, his eyes flashing in a dangerous way that made even Malfoy move.  
  
Dumbledore and Draco left and as soon as the door closed behind them, both Harry and Ron turned to Hermione. Hermione felt the pressure on all sides and she felt oddly claustrophobic in the spacious room. At the same time, her heart had sunk at Dumbledore's explanation. Only Voldemort's wand . . . then she was basically doomed to live out her life under the spell's influence. An even darker thought presented itself, though it was oddly and terrifyingly comforting, in some distant, vague way: Who knew how long her life would last?  
  
"Hermione," said Ron slowly, his voice carefully void of emotion, "what just happened? What spell are you going on about? What's Voldemort-and Malfoy-done to you? We need to know. Please."  
  
"We're your friends," persuaded Harry. "We don't look down on you for any of this. We don't care about some stupid Mark on your arm. You're still Hermione Granger, we know that. And we know that Hermione Granger is no Death Eater. It's what's in your mind that counts-not on your arm. So come on-try to help us understand. We just want to help you and we can't do that without knowing."  
  
Hermione nodded in a mechanical sort of way, slowly and continually, without any real feeling. She was staring at Dumbledore's desk. Her right hand had slowly and unconsciously lifted and was now clutching her upper left arm. She remained silent.  
  
Harry and Ron exchanged looks that went beyond concern and into worry and fear. Neither had ever seen her so distant and detached before, and it frightened them. Harry put a hand on her shoulder and said quietly and gently, "Hermione, are you all right? Answer, please."  
  
"Yes," she whispered a moment later. "I'm just trying to think. Please, give me a moment. Don't pressure me, I've had enough pressuring to last me lifetime, I don't think I could handle it from you two . . ."  
  
Harry apologized and sat back, sending Ron a look behind her back. They sat in uncomfortable silence for at least a minute before she moved or spoke. Finally, she sat back and sighed, her eyes closed, a pained expression on her face. Harry and Ron had to fight down the urge to question her.  
  
Finally, she spoke. "I'm sorry. You just . . . you can't possibly understand what I'm going through right now. I've been praying for months for someone other than Malfoy or Snape to talk to. It's been one of my deepest wishes. But I haven't been able to-Voldemort's made sure of that. Now, I finally get the opportunity, but I realize I haven't considered the fundamentals of it all-like how I can even possibly hope to begin it all, let alone get through it without breaking down entirely . . ." Her voice trailed off.  
  
"Hermione, you're right to think we don't understand," said Ron. "We can't because we haven't been through it. The closest we can imagine is what we've been through-and what you tell us. We can't even do the latter until you explain. Just start from the beginning, take your time. And don't worry about crying-it's perfectly fine. Don't think you have to act tough around us. We understand that much."  
  
Hermione nodded. "The thing is, I can't think of where the beginning would be. There are so many places . . . but I think I know what one. Just give me time, okay? I haven't told anyone this . . . and . . . it's hard to tell . . ."  
  
Harry's throat tightened uncomfortably at the pain lurking beneath the surface of her voice and at the troubled, frightened murkiness in her normally bright and determined cinnamon eyes. She seemed so lost and confused, so completely the opposite of the way she was normally. All her confidence seemed to have vanished. He took her hand gently and reassuringly in his own. "Take all the time you need. We'll listen," he whispered.  
  
The boys fell silent as Hermione began to tell her horrific tale. At first it was easy, starting with The Key and her late-night lessons. Gradually though it became harder, until finally the most difficult part arose out of nowhere, slapping her in the face with its sudden and unexpected ferocity, even the second time around. She began to illustrate her imprisonment and she found her throat constricting. Her eyes went in and out of focus and the visions that had haunted her dreams each night since Christmas filtered back into her head, flashing across her mind unstoppably. It became harder and harder to continue without emotion, to describe things accurately without reacting herself. She fought back a sob with each word until finally her defenses wore out and she found tears streaming down her face.  
  
Harry put his arms around her, trying to calm her, but it seemed to have the exact opposite effect on her. She shrugged away from him and jumped up from her chair. Her eyes were those of a wild animal-trapped and insane with fear. A moment later, she appeared to calm down. She was still crying, but she was no longer panicking.  
  
"I'm sorry," she gasped to their startled faces. "It's all really hitting me for the first time. Everything's happened so fast and I haven't had any real chance to take it all in . . . I almost felt as though I were back there, it was a vision, or a flashback, or whatever you want to call it." She was quiet for a moment, and then added, "I get them sometimes."  
  
Ron nodded, the first of the two to recover. His face relayed to her how shocked and horrified he was at what he'd been told-and she hadn't even gotten to the part with the Dark Mark yet. Harry's face was just a blank, but his eyes were a beacon of expressions of such a contrast she couldn't hope to sort them all out in the seconds their eyes were connected.  
  
Hermione didn't bother to sit down again, choosing to stand instead. She wiped her eyes and continued. While there were moments when the memories were so realistic it hurt and while it wasn't uncommon for her to start crying again for a minute or two, she got the story told with no more outbursts.  
  
Finally, her last word was spoken, her last tear wiped away and she stood before them, her eyes downcast, suddenly feeling terribly awkward. She shifted from foot to foot, too afraid to look up at them and see their reactions. Would they be angry for her becoming a Death Eater? Would they turn away from her, despite all their promises? It was her worst fear, the fear she'd had to suppress every time she dreamed of the moment when she'd be able to share her burden with her friends: What if this changed everything they thought about her?  
  
"Hermione . . ." It was Harry, the first to speak. He trailed off at first, and then picked up a few moments later. Before he continued, she forced herself to look up, to meet his eyes and meet whatever he would think. He shook his head in a disbelieving way. "Oh, God. I never could have imagined . . . never would have thought . . . I don't know what to say. I honestly don't know how you've survived it all."  
  
"Yeah, Hermione," said Ron, his voice troubled. "It's like you're right at the heart of it all. Are you okay?"  
  
"Of course she's not okay, Ron," said Harry, watching Hermione as he spoke. "Look at her. Listen to what she's saying."  
  
"I'm sorry," she said, deciding to bring on the inevitable on her own, as they seemed to be too far into shock to do it themselves. She at least owed them an apology. "For everything. For . . . for selling us all out, helping Voldemort take over, becoming a Death Eater . . . just everything I've done."  
  
Harry looked as though he'd been slapped. "You-you can't honestly think this is all your fault. Come on, Herm, don't even think it. The only person whose fault this is is Voldemort."  
  
"And Malfoy," Ron spoke up. "Not you-never you. Everything you've done, everything you've sacrificed, was to help us."  
  
She felt a combination of relief that they didn't hate her and confusion at why they didn't. "Think about it," she said dully. "I was a fool. I should have just killed myself when I had the chance. Then I could have prevented all I've done. I didn't think that two betrayals and one death would do the same damage to The Key. I was dumb enough to think I could survive Lucius's torture and still find a way out. I was too much of a coward to face him twice, so I took the Dark Mark. I was so stupid I actually thought he'd give me the opportunity to betray him from the inside. It was my idiocy that's caused this. I'm under no delusions to that fact."  
  
"You are not an idiot," argued Ron passionately. "You're the smartest, bravest girl at Hogwarts."  
  
"Well, that shows just how smart we all are then," she said dryly.  
  
"Hermione, you weren't being stupid," defended Harry. "You were surviving the only way you knew how. You found every way you could think of and tried it. So it all failed-doesn't mean you didn't try. You were brave enough to face Lucius once and we know what that's done to you. You were doing your best to stay alive and prevent yourself more pain and torture by accepting the Dark Mark and you were still trying to find a way out. You had no idea about that spell of Voldemort's. You did all you could every step of the way without getting yourself killed. Had you allowed him to keep torturing you, then you'd have been stupid. It all blew up in your face, yes, but that is in no way your fault."  
  
Hermione shrugged and turned her back on them to look over the other side of the office, not convinced. "Sure," she muttered agreeably, just to make them stop.  
  
Harry knew she didn't mean it. "I know about the scars on your back," he admitted. She turned to face him, looking distinctly uncomfortable and shocked. His expression turned slightly ashamed. "I'm sorry, I asked around . . . Ginny told me. Come on, Herm, if he hurt you that badly the first time around-and those are just what didn't get healed, apparently-I can't possibly imagine what he'd have done the second time. Stop acting like everything that's transpired was caused by you."  
  
Ron nodded. Harry had filled him in on the letter and why he'd been hiding behind the statue the day before.  
  
She ignored everything he said about not blaming herself. "How did you know to ask Ginny?" asked Hermione.  
  
Harry realized he'd said nothing to Hermione about the mysterious letters he'd gotten. "I got these letters the day before Hogwarts was attacked," explained Harry. "They told me to get out within a day because I was in danger. They told me you, Hermione, had already been victim to this evil, and they told me to talk to Ginny and Hagrid. I did. Ginny told me about what she'd seen and Hagrid told me about The Key. I got a second warning telling me to leave you and get away, but I didn't just believe it. I hid in that tunnel that Fred and George said collapsed and waited. That's how I wasn't captured when the Death Eaters came."  
  
Hermione looked confused and unsettled by this.  
  
"Who sent them?" Hermione asked.  
  
Harry shrugged. "I don't know. This owl I'd never seen before delivered the letters, then took off before I could get a proper look. The writing could have been anyone's. That's why I was so suspicious. I still don't know who sent them."  
  
Ron opened his mouth to say something, but the door opened, distracting them all. Lupin walked in, carrying a large tray full of food. Simultaneously, the three realized just how hungry they were. Hermione had grown used to surviving long periods without food, so it wasn't as bad on her, though she was still famished. Harry and Ron, however, had not had her experience and attacked the food the second Lupin set it down on the desk. Harry had never gotten to eat as much as he liked at the Dursleys, but he'd never gone without food for so long. Whenever they locked him in his room for punishment, he'd sneak down later to get food to make up for the meals he'd missed. The feeling of starvation was completely new to him. Ron, too, had never had an infinite amount of food with six siblings, but he'd never even been as starved as Harry.  
  
Hermione hung back and allowed the boys to grab their respective dishes from the tray before moving forward herself. There were three plates, three glasses, and three bowls. The plates contained two sandwiches each, the bowls a type of chicken soup, and the cups were filled with water.  
  
"Are you almost finished in here?" asked Lupin. "I do not mean to rush you, but Dumbledore must come in here soon to talk to you."  
  
The three exchanged looks. They desperately wanted more time, but they all nodded. Lupin appeared as though he were about to say something, but thought better of it and turned to leave.  
  
There were several minutes of silence in which the three ate their food. Dumbledore returned in this time, dragging a silent and sullen Draco Malfoy behind him. He smiled broadly at them all, but none returned his grin.  
  
"I do hope all matters have been sorted out," said Dumbledore, taking his seat behind his desk and pointing Draco to the empty chair next to Ron.  
  
Draco took the seat and Ron seemed to notice him for the first time. His eyes flared with anger and he set down the piece of sandwich crust he'd been holding. "You son of a-" he cried without finishing his sentence. He leaped on Malfoy, sending the two rolling off their chairs and onto the floor.  
  
Within seconds they were a blurred ball of flying fists and profanities, wrestling, punching, and cursing one another at the same time in such a fashion that no one even knew what was happening for a few seconds. Finally, the two stopped rolling. Ron had a struggling Draco pinned hard to the concrete floor. He was punching him as he spoke.  
  
"How dare you sell out Hermione like that?!" he was yelling furiously as he hit Malfoy, over and over. Harry and Hermione had never seen Ron in such a fury, not once in all the times Malfoy had provoked him over the years. He had all the characteristics of a rabid dog with the exception of a frothing mouth as he attacked. He showed no mercy. His eyes were insane with rage.  
  
"Let me up, Weasley! You're crazy!" yelled Malfoy, spitting out blood at the same time from a punch Ron had landed on his mouth.  
  
Ron's reply was another fist in his stomach. "I am not! You're at fault for all of this. Nothing would have happened to her if you hadn't been such a traitor-you even told You-Know-Who to take her in particular! Oh, you're going to pay!" He had time to slug Malfoy a final time-this time in the jugular, making the Slytherin boy gasp for breath-before Dumbledore raised his wand.  
  
"Immobiolus!"  
  
Ron and Malfoy stopped still, as though someone had pressed the pause button on a TV remote. Harry and Hermione had still not moved, staring at the two. Dumbledore stood and pulled Ron off of Malfoy. Once the two were up, he unfroze them both. Ron made a motion for Malfoy again, but Dumbledore stopped him.  
  
"You both are wasting time!" cried Dumbledore angrily. "We have but twelve hours. Eleven now. I'd suggest you settle down. You'll need to be working together shortly!"  
  
"I'll never work with him," growled Ron, breathing hard, his face red with fury. "After what he did to Hermione? Come on, you can't honestly say he's even trustworthy enough to be worked with!"  
  
"I know not where his loyalties lie, or what hidden agendas the boy may have, Mr. Weasley," said Dumbledore briskly. "However, the prophecy has stated you are to work together, so work together you shall. I know no more."  
  
"What prophecy?" Ron asked in angry annoyance, taking his seat next to Hermione and staring straight ahead. "I don't care what fortune telling mumbo you throw at me-I refuse to work with him."  
  
Dumbledore sighed, suddenly looking tired and weary instead of angry. He turned and walked back to his desk, allowing a bloodied Malfoy to walk over to the wall, well away from Ron. "I do hope you will change your mind about that, Mr. Weasley," said Dumbledore. "Because if not, we may very well be doomed."  
  
Harry was only half listening. He was still staring at his best friend. Never had Ron lost a fuse like that before. He'd completely snapped. Harry looked to Malfoy. The boy had slid down to a sitting position. He had one arm wrapped around his stomach and his other hand massaged his throat. He had a steadily flowing bloody nose, a fat lip, and every now and then Harry would see him turn his head to spit out some more blood. Already bruises were forming, one around his right eye. Harry felt satisfied that Malfoy had been hurt-but it was nothing compared to what Hermione had gone through because of him. The only thing he wished was that he'd been able to snap out of his stupor long enough to help Ron. He agreed with his friend-it didn't matter what happened. He'd never be able to work with Malfoy. He'd never even be able to put up a façade. He wasn't sure how Hermione, of all people, had survived cooperating with him to reach them.  
  
Once Dumbledore had sunk into his chair and studied them for a moment, he spoke, his voice melancholy. "I suppose you all wonder about what I am speaking."  
  
"Yes, sir," said Harry. He glanced at Hermione out of the corner of his eye. She was watching Dumbledore, but her expression was distant and her eyes held a haunted look that it hurt him to see. Ron was still fuming and did not bother replying.  
  
Dumbledore nodded. "Well, I suppose the best way to start would be with an explanation of current events. I don't suppose you've been kept up to date with the recent developments."  
  
"Actually, Fred and George brought us a paper from the Burrow," offered Harry. "We know a lot from that. It's horrible . . . At least we know you're not dead."  
  
Hermione glanced at Harry. "I don't know what he's referring to, but when I Apparated to my home, I spoke with my neighbor and she described wizards- though she didn't know what she was describing, of course-and their actions. We're being completely careless. The Muggles are finding out."  
  
Dumbledore nodded again solemnly. "That is quite true, unfortunately. Allow me to bring you up to pace. Cornelius Fudge has run off and I am here, but they do not know where I am. They are panicking, the Ministry is in shambles and everyone is trying to get away. All security procedures have been abandoned. As for new news for all of you-Azkaban has been broken into."  
  
"What?" asked Ron incredulously, his eyes wide, his anger forgotten momentarily. "We haven't heard of that!"  
  
"No, you wouldn't have Mr. Weasley. You read this morning's paper. This has just happened a couple of hours ago. Voldemort sent his men to Azkaban as most knew he eventually would. The Dementors have gone back over to him and all the prisoners have been freed. Dementors are now guarding Hogwarts grounds as well as many other areas He wishes to keep secure. It is a dark day for our kind, that much can be said. Another recent development-the Muggles are talking about us on their news, in newspapers, just about everywhere. It is strictly speculation yet, but the idea of wizards has been thrown out. They're becoming panicked. One of us has been shot by a Muggle device called a gun." Dumbledore sighed and shook his head sadly. "The poor man never stood a chance."  
  
A heavy silence fell over the room. It was hard to believe that Muggles were beginning to learn of them-and even harder to believe that there had already been a murder.  
  
"My neighbor said that we should all be shot before we can hurt them," Hermione mumbled in a small voice. "They won't understand. They really won't. My parents have always been so understanding and loving I never thought . . . I was wrong. They'll hate us."  
  
"Like the Dursleys," added Harry. "This is not what we need on top of Voldemort. Why now?" He hadn't expected an answer, but to his surprise, he received one.  
  
"That, Harry, has nothing to do with chance and everything to do with Mr. Malfoy and Miss Granger. They were warned that the Light side would crumble should The Key break apart-and the Key broke apart."  
  
Hermione looked horrified. "You mean to say this is all our fault?" she asked, sounding overwhelmed and upset. Harry cursed silently. Now Hermione had one more thing to needlessly blame herself for.  
  
"No, not all your fault," corrected Dumbledore. "I had my hand in it as well. Had I not created a Key in the first place, then if Voldemort came back, we would still be holding strong. It was a risk I thought it was best to take. I was wrong. You, my dear, are an unfortunate victim in this web of injustices. The person that takes the other hand in it sits by the wall there."  
  
All their heads turned to Malfoy, who scowled at them all, but said nothing. They could all read in Dumbledore's eyes that he, too, had no intention of forgiving Malfoy any time soon. Rightly so, Harry believed.  
  
"It's my fault, really," said Hermione, hanging her head. "I was the one who brought it about. You said two betrayals-I was the second. Had I not agreed to go over . . ."  
  
"Then we would be in an even worse predicament now," Dumbledore told her confidently. "We need you for this plan I am about to explain, Hermione. You were in a corner. Either way led to the destruction of The Key. Death or betrayal, it would have ended up the same. You had to make a choice and you made the right one. In death, you would have been no help to us and our only idea right now would not be an option. In life, you have a chance to undo all that has been done. It is an intricate cycle, life. The worst happens and you think all is lost because you made the wrong choice in the beginning. Then suddenly an opportunity arises that allows you to use that allegedly wrong choice to your advantage and the advantage of those around you. That wrong choice that led to the worst can also pull you back out and give you back the best. You can never be sure what fate will bring, Hermione. Never give up when there is any chance left."  
  
Dumbledore's words were unlike those of Harry and Ron. True, Hermione knew her friends loved her and were worried for her, but Dumbledore's speech had been different. It wasn't the usual 'everything will be okay' speech that Harry and Ron gave her. Dumbledore had not assured her that things would work out and that she was going to be okay. He had simply told her not to give up. And somehow, that made the ache in her chest slightly less painful and made her nerves dim just a little.  
  
"So what is this plan you're talking about?" asked Hermione.  
  
Dumbledore nodded a little to himself. "The plan. Once we reach this part of the conversation there is no turning back, so I must ask-does anyone have any questions about what we have gone over thus far?"  
  
"What's being done about the Muggle situation?" asked Harry, images of the Dursleys taking up guns and shooting wizards flashing horribly through his mind. Something had to be done before that happened again.  
  
"I am sorry to say that nothing is being done." The three looked horrified at this. "Most of the Ministry has run off. Those who remain are having trouble enough trying to take control over the Voldemort situation-we have no resources left to do anything about the Muggles."  
  
"But," sputtered Ron, "if you went back . . . they'd listen to you, order would be restored, then maybe-"  
  
Dumbledore did not wait for Ron to finish. "I wish I could return, but I cannot. My team needs me to aid them in our protection of you four. And once you leave here, you will need protection more than ever. Hopefully, if things go as planned, this will take care of Voldemort. Then we'll be free to deal with the Muggles."  
  
"If," Hermione echoed cynically. Privately, Harry agreed with her. He'd faced Voldemort plenty of times when he wasn't strong and he had done nothing. What made Dumbledore think that this plan would work now when he was strong?  
  
"Anything else?"  
  
For the first time since she'd arrived, the worry that had been nagging her arose again. "My parents," she announced. "What about them? Do you know? I found a W made out of Floo Power on the fire mantle, but I don't know . . . did someone save them?"  
  
Dumbledore nodded. "Yes. Arthur and Molly Weasley came for them. I'm not sure exactly where they are, but as long as the Weasleys are alive, your parents are safe, Hermione."  
  
Hermione breathed a sigh of relief and managed a true smile. "So that's what the W was for. Thank God."  
  
The three teenagers had finished their food by now. They were all still hungry, but no longer was it a constant, biting pain to their insides. Dumbledore waved his wand and this dishes cleared, stacking themselves atop one another and coming to rest on Dumbledore's desk.  
  
"Now, that the things that have taken place have been spoken of, it is time for us to discuss was must be done from here on out. Are you listening over there, Mr. Malfoy?" Malfoy looked up and nodded, his eyes angry, his nose still bleeding a little. Dumbledore, satisfied, continued. "All right. Hermione, Draco, you both know of the prophecy that led us to form The Key in the first place, right?"  
  
Hermione told him yes in a quiet voice. Draco just nodded without really looking at anyone.  
  
"Well," said Dumbledore, "we all know just how true that prophecy was. I have been searching desperately ever since, trying to find something that contradicts that prophecy, that presents some type of hope for us." He picked up an old, worn book from his desk. The cover was made of hard, dark brown leather which had no writing on it. The pages inside were rippled, as though it had been water damaged in the past. They were a weathered, old-looking yellow hue and they appeared brittle, as though they would snap at the touch. "I found this. It is a very old book, written when the founders had just come together. I disregarded it before, as the prophecies and information in it seemed too obscure and inaccurate. When I gave it another chance, I found this one, hidden near the middle, between two stuck together pages:  
  
One day far off, Darkness will triumph over Light, making it seem as though all is lost. The two enemies who have been at the center of it all, along with the one who knows most about our enemy and another who will aide, all four must overcome old feuds and deep hatred to continue on. It is the responsibility of the new four to journey into the darkness that has claimed us and reach its heart. Two must defeat the Dark from the very inner core one must make the ultimate sacrifice to help them, and the fourth must avenge a deep anger from further outside the battle. Together they will fight or together they will die along with our last chance.  
  
Dumbledore watched them all take into account the contents of this prophecy. They were all silent for a moment, thinking. Finally, Dumbledore spoke once more into the welcoming silence. "I am assuming that the two enemies are Hermione and Draco. The one who knows most about our enemy would be Harry. And, judging by what they said about the fourth 'avenging a deep anger', I think they are referring to Ron. He wants to avenge his brother."  
  
Again, there was silence, but this time Dumbledore waited for their response. The first person to react was Draco. "You expect us to go back and try and fight Voldemort?" he asked incredulously. He struggled to his feet, wincing but saying nothing. "You can count me out, then. I'm not going back. Look how much it's taken to get away! Now you expect us to return for a surely impossible battle? Because that prophecy doesn't say we'll win!"  
  
"You can't walk away, Draco," said Dumbledore warningly. "You all must fight, not just three or two of you. You will remain if you wish to see the Light side win once more. If all of you agree to have no part in this, it is understandable. You've been through enough. You can leave this behind you and no one will look down on you for it. But Draco, you will not walk away without their say."  
  
"Look who you're talking to!" cried Harry. "He's the one that put us all in the mess to begin with! You think he wants Light to win? He doesn't. I don't know what his game is, but he doesn't care about the Light. He's just trying to save himself."  
  
"Well, it's no surprise you'll do it, Potter," sneered Draco. "Always looking for a bit more fame, are you? Weasley, maybe you think you can earn yourself some of Potter's fame if you help."  
  
"I'll do it because I care what happens to the Light side, Malfoy!" shouted Harry, standing up and ignoring Dumbledore's attempt to calm him down. "Because I care what happens to my friends. You'll walk out because you only care about yourself!"  
  
"ENOUGH!"  
  
Both boys quieted instantly, looking to Dumbledore, who looked, surprisingly, disappointed instead of angry. "If you really do not wish to do this," he said slowly, "you do not have to. I am forcing you to do nothing. I am asking. And I am asking all of you. So, if that is your decision, I need not continue. There is no shame involved-as I said, this is difficult to ask you to do after all you've been through."  
  
"No. I want to help."  
  
Harry and Ron spun to look at Hermione. She was the last person they'd expected to want to do anything more against Voldemort. They would have expected her to want to get as far away as possible. She explained herself.  
  
"I don't want to do this," said Hermione honestly. "It terrifies me. However, I will do everything I can to help. The way I see it, I'm going to die if I don't. Voldemort will keep tracking me until I just don't care anymore and then he'll kill me. The only way for me and my friends and family to live is if I do this. So I will."  
  
Harry and Ron nodded and Harry returned to his seat. "I want to know, too," he said. "Just tell us. And Malfoy, the least you can do is wait until after he's explained to start walking out." He said this last part scornfully.  
  
Malfoy stood where he was, watching Dumbledore and saying nothing more. Dumbledore seemed to take this as a truce between the two, at least for the moment.  
  
"This prophecy was written by Rowena Ravenclaw, who, among the four, was the most talented fortune-teller. I believe that due to that fact, along with how well it is compatible with the first prophecy, it is quite real."  
  
"So what exactly is it you're asking us to do?" asked Ron slowly and warily. He wanted no part of this, but he was thinking along the same lines as Harry and Hermione. It was a struggle-save himself the pain of going back, or do the right thing for everyone involved?  
  
Dumbledore appeared to be thinking. "I am asking you to do what the prophecy asks, Mr. Weasley," he said finally. "In terms that are easier to understand, here is what you must do: The four of you must work together to destroy the Dark side at its core. The core is Voldemort-without him, there would be no Dark side. Two of you will finally be his downfall, one will sacrifice something to help the others, and the last will be doing something else to help bring down the Dark."  
  
"But who's who?" asked Harry. "Who destroys him? Who makes a sacrifice? And how are we supposed to reach Voldemort when we don't even know where he is?"  
  
"It is a prophecy, Harry, it gives us only vague details and information." Dumbledore sighed. "I do not know who will do what, only that if you attempt to follow this prophecy through, these events will inevitably take place. And that if you don't attempt it, we all are likely doomed. However, I do know where Voldemort currently has his headquarters."  
  
"Where?" asked Ron, perking up.  
  
"To be perfectly honest, it makes a great deal of sense," said Dumbledore grimly. "None other than the place from which he released horrific attacks twice in his life. The place that was only securely destroyed in your second year." He looked pointedly at Harry and Ron, who gasped.  
  
"You can't mean . . . The Chamber of Secrets?" asked Harry disbelievingly. "Wasn't it closed off, sealed with a whole bunch of powerful spells or something?"  
  
"Quite. Unfortunately, Voldemort is easily strong enough to overthrow the defensive spells placed around the entrance. He has opened it and is residing there. His basilisk is gone now, true, but it is still a place I imagine he's fond of."  
  
"It'd also be quite secure, wouldn't it?" asked Hermione rhetorically. "No one but people who can speak Parseltongue could enter without his permission. The only two people I know who can speak Parseltongue are he and Harry."  
  
Dumbledore nodded at her approvingly. "Yes, that was probably another aspect of the Chamber of Secrets he liked."  
  
"So you want us to sneak past Dementors and Death Eaters to get into Hogwarts, then make it down into the Chamber of Secrets and defeat Voldemort?" asked Draco. "Count me out. Where's the door to this place?"  
  
"If you leave, you do not return, Draco," warned Dumbledore. "I would urge you to at least consider it."  
  
"I have. The answer is no. Let me out of here."  
  
"You're being stupid, Malfoy," said Hermione, turning to face him. "Do you really think you'll manage to make it even a few miles of this place without Voldemort finding you? We've only been running for less than twenty-four hours and look at all the close calls we've had. And that was with Dumbledore protecting us. If you leave, he won't be there to protect you anymore-and neither will I. The only chance you have of getting your life back lies in Voldemort's demise. Only then will we be able to stop running, and we're the only ones who can prevent it. So fine-go. Go and say hi to the Death Eaters for me."  
  
Draco narrowed his eyes. "Who said I needed your protection, Granger? You didn't do anything to help me! If anything, you got us into the trouble we had to get out of."  
  
"I should have left you," she snarled. "And by the way, rescuing you from the Death Eaters by the lake is helping you! You'd be dead if it weren't for me."  
  
Draco opened his mouth to retort, but Harry jumped in. "Be logical, Malfoy. Everything Hermione said is true. You don't stand a chance out there on your own. Your only chance lies with us. We don't want you, but we have to have you to do this. If you're so determined to save your own skin, you'd be smart enough to agree to this. You're risking death either way-pick the way that just might lead to freedom one day."  
  
Draco was staring at them all. Hermione had turned away and returned to her seat. Harry was watching him expectantly and Ron was scowling at him. Dumbledore's expression was a blank.  
  
"Perhaps you would like some time, Mr. Malfoy," suggested Dumbledore finally. He glanced at his watch. "We've been here two and a half hours. You have nine and a half left here."  
  
"What do you mean?" asked Ron in confusion. "We're only allowed twelve hours here?"  
  
"That is correct. Voldemort's ball will stay dark for twelve hours only and then it will return to tracking you. He will get a picture of this place and we cannot afford that. Therefore, you have only the allotted time. Anyway, I am sure you are all exhausted. My team has beds here, you can stay in them. There are four beds in one room and one in another where the men and women sleep. You can all sleep in one room, but I get the feeling you would not want to do that. One of you can have the single room if you wish. You can sleep for about eight hours and we'll wake you when it's time."  
  
"I call the single," muttered Draco immediately, casting a resentful look at the other occupants of the room. "Lead the way."  
  
Ron shot him a second scowl. He stood up, followed by Harry and Hermione. Dumbledore led them all out into the main room again. This time the others only glanced up at them from their work. They were lead to a pair of doors on the right side of the room.  
  
"Draco, your room is on the left," Dumbledore informed Draco. "Harry, Ron, Hermione, you three go into the room on the right. Take any bed you like and don't worry about waking up. We'll come and get you."  
  
Harry thanked Dumbledore as Malfoy was slamming the door behind him. Harry was the last one into their room and he flipped a light switch by the door before closing it. An overhead bulb flickered on and they all got a good look at the room. Four beds were lined up against a far wall. Each had a table next to it with drawers and a small, old-fashioned clock on top. Everything was pressed close together and the beds were all as identical as Fred and George. Dark blue bedspreads and sheets were neatly arranged atop the beds, with a lighter blue pillow placed on the top. There were wooden head and footboards and a dust ruffle dangled from the bottom, the same shade as the pillow.  
  
"Fond of blue, are they?" commented Ron, pulling off his sneakers and throwing himself clumsily onto the second to the last bed on the left. "Someone here was in Ravenclaw."  
  
"Doesn't matter," replied Harry, choosing the bed next to Ron, in the middle. "I'm just glad we've got someplace to sleep. And food to eat. It seems like an eternity has passed since any of us have been even remotely comfortable. Never thought I'd actually envy my room at the Dursleys."  
  
Ron laughed. "Yeah. Never thought I'd envy the ghoul in my attic!"  
  
Harry managed a smile. There was something about being here that calmed him. He knew that in less than ten hours he'd be off again on possibly the most dangerous thing he'd ever done, but for the moment, everything seemed right. He was with Ron; Hermione was safe and with them; he had food and a place to sleep.  
  
He looked over at Hermione, who had taken a seat on the bed next to his, the one on the far right end. She was not smiling. She was looking at the clock on the bedside table. "It's nearly four in the morning," she told them quietly, but both managed to pick up her voice. "I haven't been able to keep track of the time-don't have a watch."  
  
"Me either. Not since the second task of the Triwizard Tournament," agreed Harry. "Let's just sleep while we can."  
  
"Amen to that," Ron called over. He was already shrugging out of his outer robes, so that he was wearing only an old t-shirt and jeans, the typical Muggle clothing he wore on weekends and holidays.  
  
Harry was wearing his school uniform under his robes, which was thick and slightly uncomfortable to sleep in, but now that the activity had tapered off for the moment, he knew he could fall asleep on a concrete floor in a matter of seconds. He looked to the clock on his bedside, but it had stopped sometime ago. He decided to ignore that. He didn't really care what time it was.  
  
"Hermione, how you feeling?" asked Ron in a slightly less content voice.  
  
"I'm fine, Ron," she sighed, not sounding fine at all. "Go to sleep and let me do the same. I just need some rest."  
  
Ron nodded. "All right, then. Harry, would you mind turning that light off? I'm not entirely sure how you got it on . . . must be something Muggle . . ."  
  
Harry stood and walked over to the door, flipping the switch down and plunging them all into sudden darkness. The room had no windows-none of the rooms here did, for safety purposes, he assumed-and the only light came from a tiny crack under the door. He lit his wand and used it to find his way back to bed.  
  
He doused his wand's light and lay down in the bed. It was a relief to feel the sheets and pillow beneath him. About thirty seconds later, he could hear Ron's soft snores coming from the bed next to his. However, for some reason, he wasn't able to drift off into sleep as easily as he'd imagined. Lying here in the dark silence seemed to bring his worries back to him and they seemed more inescapable.  
  
He listened to Ron's snores, and then shifted his hearing to Hermione's side of the room. She wasn't snoring, but he didn't suppose she would. He couldn't tell if her breathing was slow and even as it would be if she was asleep, or if she too was lying awake; Ron's snores drown out the sound.  
  
Harry laid there for at least an hour, staring into the darkness above him where the ceiling was. He thought about ways they could do what they had to and did his best to remember the prophecy, to decipher it himself. One particular line stood out for him: "One must make the ultimate sacrifice . . ." To his ears, the "ultimate sacrifice" sounded like death. Someone was going to die. He hoped he was wrong in his interpretation, but somehow, he didn't think he was. And if he was right, that meant that one of them was going to die. Immediately, his concern was for Hermione and Ron, then for himself. Honestly, he did not care if Malfoy died. Malfoy had done enough to them-perhaps death was a fitting punishment. However, there was nothing in the prophecy to guarantee that it was Malfoy who would die-and that was what scared him.  
  
He was jarred from his thoughts by soft whimpers coming from the bed to his right. He sat up abruptly and whispered through the darkness, "'Mione?"  
  
The only answer he received was another whimper from her and a loud, grunting snore from Ron. He fumbled in the darkness, seeking out his wand on his bedside table with his hand. Finally, he found it and whispered, "Lumos!" A beam of light shot out of his wand, illuminating Hermione's side of the room. He moved the light to her face, and could see that it was contorted in discomfort. She was tossing back and forth under the covers.  
  
Harry remembered how she'd told he and Ron about her nightmares and immediately frowned in worry. He swung his legs over the side of his bed and stood. He walked over to Hermione's bed, kneeling beside it. Holding his wand in one hand and pointing it at her, he used his other hand to gently grasp her shoulder and shake her. "Hermione, wake up," he whispered, though Hermione probably wouldn't have heard him even if Ron's snores weren't drowning him out. He shook her again, harder this time and her eyes snapped open.  
  
She sat up, startled, looking around her as if to confirm her surroundings. Finally, her eyes fell on Harry and she sighed in relief, her eyes closing momentarily.  
  
"Hermione, are you okay?" he asked immediately. "You were tossing and whimpering." He was silent for a moment, then added, "Was that one of your nightmares?"  
  
She nodded. "Yes," she whispered. Hermione reached up and tucked a piece of her hair behind her ear. "It was a bad one, too," she said even more softly. "Thank you for waking me up. I tried to stay awake, but . . . I've been tired all day. I don't like sleeping, though."  
  
Harry stood and sat down on the edge of her bed. He didn't ask what the nightmare had been about, not wanting to make her go over it for him if she didn't want to. "I guess going over it for Ron and me made them come back," said Harry instead, quietly so as not to wake Ron.  
  
Hermione shook her head. "No, they've never really gone away. Some are worse than usual-like tonight's-and some nights I don't have them at all. It's a game of chance, really. After everything that's gone on in the past forty-eight hours, it's no surprise I had one tonight."  
  
"Two days," echoed Harry. "I can't believe all this has happened in just under two days. It's completely surreal."  
  
Hermione just nodded, saying nothing.  
  
"How do you feel about all this?" asked Harry. "About what Dumbledore wants us to do. I know you said you didn't have a problem with it, but . . . honestly, I won't tell anyone. I'm not sure about it all myself."  
  
"I meant what I said to you all, Harry," she insisted. "I'm scared, I won't hide that. But I also know it's the only way. I'm going to do this. I'll try even if Malfoy won't." She sighed again, looking down. "God, everything has hit rock bottom, Harry. I don't even care if I die anymore. I can't see how things can get much worse. My life has turned into a nightmare. Sometimes I can't decide which I'm more afraid of-falling asleep or waking up."  
  
Harry put his arm around her and thought about how to answer that. Telling her things would work out was his instinctive reaction, but on deeper thought, he realized it would be condescending. He didn't know anymore than she did if things would work out. "You're right. Doing what Dumbledore wants us to is all we can do. Maybe if we're successful, all this will end. I hope it will, Hermione, for your sake most of all. You don't deserve all this."  
  
"Yes I do," replied Hermione. "A lot of it was caused by me in the first place, so I suppose I do deserve it."  
  
"None of this was caused by you, Hermione!" insisted Harry passionately.  
  
She ignored him. "You should have been chosen for Gryffindor, not me. You would have handled everything better. Everyone thought you would be. It was a giant shock when I was chosen and rightly so. Look me at now- terrified of sleeping. Gryffindors are supposed to be brave-I'm not exactly acting brave."  
  
"All the other students thought it would be me, maybe," he said, though he could not remember, courtesy Professor McGonagall's memory charm. "But the Sorting Hat chose you. Doesn't matter what the others thought. The Hat isn't wrong."  
  
"Everyone's wrong sometimes," she argued.  
  
"True, but it wasn't wrong about you. And as for your bravery-Hermione, you are one of the bravest people I've ever met. You've demonstrated that before in the past when we fought Voldemort, but never as much as you have this year. I can't guarantee that if I were you I wouldn't just keep running. I'm not sure I'd have the guts to go back and try and destroy the man that put me through all this for the sake of everyone. You've stayed strong through months of endless disappointment and torture. That says something about a person. Obviously you're frightened-if you weren't, you'd just be crazy. What matters is that you deal with that fear in one of the most frightening ways possible. What matters is that you've done all you could," said Harry.  
  
Hermione gave him a small smile. "Thanks, Harry."  
  
He nodded. He looked down and asked, "How's your ankle?"  
  
She shrugged. "All right. It's a little sore, but nothing compared to how it felt before. Besides, I've been through a lot worse than a broken ankle." She fell silent after her last comment.  
  
"How did you break it, anyway? You didn't tell us."  
  
"Malfoy and I were running through the forest, trying to escape the Death Eaters that were following us. I tripped on this tree root sticking up out of the ground and fell the wrong way. It happened probably an hour before I met up with you. I was hiding in the bushes when Malfoy was fighting the other Death Eaters you knocked out, because I wasn't steady on my feet," explained Hermione.  
  
Harry glanced at her clock, which now read five thirty. She followed his gaze. "Harry, you should get some sleep, even if I can't. I didn't mean to waste your time."  
  
"You didn't," he assured her. "I'm happy to spend all the time I can with you. I've been really worried for you. And you should try to go back to sleep yourself. You'll need it later."  
  
She nodded. "I'll try."  
  
He stood up and walked back over to his own bed, sliding beneath the covers and turning off his wand. He said goodnight to her, then rolled over onto his other side so that he was facing Ron, whose snores had quieted, but was still fast asleep.  
  
"Harry?" came Hermione's voice a moment later.  
  
Harry rolled back over to face her. "Yeah?"  
  
"Do you have any idea who sent you those letters? Because I don't know who could have known Ginny saw my back on the train. She and I were the only ones there. And I don't get who-besides a teacher or one of The Key-could have known about what Hagrid told you. Certainly I know of no one who could have known both."  
  
Harry frowned. "No, I still am uncertain on that point. However, I'm not all that worried, just curious. Whoever sent those letters was helping me, so it was a friend, not an enemy."  
  
"Yeah, I guess you're right," said Hermione quietly, but he could tell by her voice that her mind was not yet off the subject. "Goodnight, Harry. Thank you."  
  
He smiled to himself, closing his eyes. "Goodnight, Hermione."  
  
**************  
  
He was roused from his sleep sometime later by a pillow hitting his face. His eyes snapped open and he sat up, stopping the swinging pillow from hitting him a second time. He fumbled on his bedside table for his glasses and grabbed them, sliding them on. Ron was tossing a pillow back onto his own bed.  
  
"Ever heard of just shaking someone?" grunted Harry. His eyes were still half closed from lack of sleep and all he wanted in that instant was to fall back asleep.  
  
"Sure, but that was more fun." Ron flashed him a grin as he put his robes back on. "Dumbledore came in about five minutes ago to tell us to wake up. You better get moving."  
  
He looked over to find Hermione still asleep in bed. Ron followed his line of sight and said in a quieter voice, "Better wake her up. I didn't have the heart to do it before now-I figured she probably needed all the sleep she could get."  
  
Harry nodded, sliding out of bed. He ignored Ron's call of, "Want a pillow?" and woke her in the same manner he had last night, shaking her until she awoke. She yawned and sat up.  
  
"Glad to see you got some sleep," he told her in a low voice so Ron wouldn't hear. "You have to get up now. Be glad Ron didn't wake you like he woke me." Ron laughed at that behind him and he turned to scowl at him. Normally he was just as friendly in the mornings as he was any other part of the day, but normally he hadn't gone two days without sleep.  
  
Hermione sat up and stretched while Harry made the bed he'd slept in. He grabbed the wand to tuck it in his pocket but stopped, remembering that it was actually Hermione's wand. He turned to her. "Here," he said, handing it to her. "It's yours. You threw it to Ron in the Great Hall."  
  
Understanding dawned on her face and she accepted the wand gladly. She handed Harry Draco's wand, informing him as she did so of its origins. He made a face at it and called back to Ron, "Hey, give me my wand back. I don't want the traitor's!"  
  
"Well neither do I!" replied Ron testily, but he pulled out Harry's wand and threw it to him. Harry picked it up from where it landed on the bed and handed Ron Malfoy's wand.  
  
Seeing her friend's grimace, she said, "Malfoy has one he took from a guard. Give that one back to him and get the one he's carrying, then you won't have to use it."  
  
Ron nodded, appearing pleased at that fact. They all left the room, disheveled from lack of sleep. The people in the main room were still working and Harry had his doubts that they'd ever stopped. Malfoy was out there, sulking in a chair in the corner, his normally slicked-back hair sticking up and out of place. Ron marched over to him and the two exchanged wands briskly and unhappily.  
  
Just as Ron was rejoining them, Dumbledore appeared. He greeted them with a smile that wasn't all that happy. "Mr. Malfoy has agreed to go. As long as you three are still in, you may leave once you are ready."  
  
The three exchanged looks and Harry said, "Yes, Professor, we'll do it."  
  
He nodded. "I'm glad. You are doing us all a great service, at great personal risk. I thank you and I apologize that we even have to ask. I feel deeply traitorous at asking my students to do such a thing. We have showers you can use, if you want to and we'll give you some food before you leave. It's noon right now. You have to be gone by one thirty. Do hurry."  
  
They all took turns in the shower, happy to rinse off the grime they'd all acquired after spending two days in forests and caves. They ate the food that Dumbledore had prepared for them. By the time they were all finished and ready, it was one in the afternoon.  
  
Dumbledore found them once they'd finished eating. "I have had my team outfit a backpack for you," said Dumbledore. Seeing Ron's confused look, he explained. "A backpack is a Muggle type of bag, Mr. Weasley. It goes on your back and can carry many things. Muggle children use them at school. We have prepared several days worth of food for you, water, and a certain map that should help you." His eyes twinkled in Harry's direction, but it wasn't just him who caught the meaning in his words.  
  
"The Marauder's Map?" asked Harry, his eyes bulging with disbelief. "I left it in the tunnel I was hiding in along with my Invisibility Cloak. How'd you get it?"  
  
"I have many secrets, Harry. I wasn't at the school when it was attacked. My sister had fallen ill and I was tending to her. The moment I got wind of all that had happened, I summoned us all together here. Professor Figg was in a position to find the map for you. I used some of my own magic to locate it, along with Remus's help, of course. You'll find your cloak in there too. I believe they'll be quite an aide to you and your goal," Dumbledore informed them.  
  
"Thank you," was all Harry could say.  
  
Dumbledore looked to Ron. "Your twin brothers made it to Hogsmeade this morning and Apparated away. They are now out of the immediate danger range." After that, he left.  
  
Lupin brought over a backpack and handed it to Harry. His arm fell when he'd grabbed it, allowing the backpack to hit the floor. It was very heavy. "Malfoy," he called over to the Slytherin boy who'd been standing, surveying the scene. He'd barely said a word all morning. Harry figured he was sullen about agreeing to accompany them. "You carry this."  
  
"Why don't you, Potter?" he shot back. "I'm not doing all the work for you. You'd better be glad I'm going at all."  
  
"I'm not carrying it because I need to be able to navigate with the map. Sometimes I'll need to wear my cloak. It doesn't make sense for me to be weighed down by the backpack. We're only taking you because Dumbledore said we needed you, so you can be the luggage carrier. Make yourself useful," snapped Harry.  
  
"Well I know my way around Death Eaters well," countered Draco. "I need to be free to pick the best routes."  
  
"We have a map that's twice as smart as you to do that for us," sneered Ron.  
  
"Yeah, well the map doesn't give you information on how certain things should be handled. And it doesn't tell you where everyone in Hogwarts is, does it?"  
  
Harry had to admit it didn't.  
  
"Well, I can aide you there. So Weasley or Granger can take the backpack. I refuse to do it."  
  
"I'll do it," said Ron immediately, not wanting Hermione to have to. "But I'm telling you now, Malfoy, we don't believe for a second that you'll be anything more than a worthless lump the whole trip. So don't think we won't give you the packback somewhere along the line."  
  
"It's 'backpack', Ron," Harry corrected his friend gently, knowing Ron had trouble with Muggle terms.  
  
"Just the same," he said, still glowering at Malfoy.  
  
Dumbledore told them all to form a circle around them. "I have to transport you back to where I took you from. My team have told me the area is relatively clear. I will do my best to continue to protect you, though Harry, you'd do good to be ready with a Patronus for the Dementors."  
  
Harry didn't like the sound of that. He was so far from happy that he wasn't sure he could conjure up a strong enough feeling of happiness to ward one off.  
  
"And Hermione, please don't try Apparition again soon," warned Dumbledore, making Hermione go slightly red and mutter and apology. "Do not be sorry. It was simply very difficult and time consuming for both of us."  
  
Dumbledore held out to Harry the same rag they'd used the night before. Harry took it hesitantly, looking around at everyone. Hermione stared at the rag and savored the last moments when she would be able to speak freely, when no one was tracking her. Ron let his last bits of happiness slip away grimly. Malfoy steeled his nerves, forcing himself to take hold of one side of the rag. Hermione and Ron followed suit.  
  
As this rag didn't have a predetermined departure time as most Portkeys did, it took Dumbledore's wand waving to initiate it. As he raised the wand, a moment passed where all of them felt oddly united under the cause.  
  
But everyone knew that unity would not last.  
  
A/n: And there it is! The next chapter the final encounter begins and the chapter after it concludes. I hope you like the way I ended it-I rewrote it three times before I was satisfied. Some personal notes:  
  
Psy_Girl: Nope, I didn't kill Fred and George. I wouldn't have the heart- they're simply too adorable in so many ways! I'm glad you like my Draco. It's been a struggle to keep him in character while showing his gradual changes and trying to make the reader feel sorry for him. I had to check myself many times to make sure I wasn't going over the top.  
  
Kiara: Well, I've updated sooner! On a side note, I would like to say I appreciate your continual support of this story all the way through. Thank you!  
  
Just Like Hermione: I'm sorry to hear you've been sick-I have been too. It's somewhat of an epidemic at my school. I'm glad my story served the purpose of bringing you some joy! Don't worry, Hermione WILL end up with Harry. While I'm not complete against D/Hr or R/Hr fanfics if they're written right, my heart will always be with this pairing. As I said in the top note, though, not too much romance in this one. And Dumbledore isn't bad, that's another thing I couldn't bear to do. I can't wait to read more of your fic-I'm waiting just as anxiously for more of it as you are for more of mine.  
  
Okay, just my last traditional statement-R/r! 


	16. Destiny's Battle part one

A/n: Here you have it, the first half of the final chapter. I will warn you now, someone dies in the next chapter and I'm not talking bad guys, though some of them, too. Any guesses?  
  
"I won't be made useless I won't be idle with despair I will gather myself around my faith For light does the darkness most fear." --Jewel  
Chapter Fifteen: Destiny's Battle  
  
Though it was mid-afternoon when they arrived once more in the forest, the Forbidden Forest's usual dim light made it seem more like late dusk. They were in the clearing where they'd met up the night before. It looked the same, except the two guards they'd knocked out were absent. They hit the ground hard, but only Ron ended up falling, the weight of the backpack making him unbalanced. Hermione and Harry helped him to his feet while Malfoy stood off to the side, laughing.  
  
"You shut up, Malfoy!" snarled Ron angrily. He brushed himself off.  
  
Harry and Hermione exchanged looks. They'd never seen Ron so continually and unceasingly angry with Malfoy before. The worry that Dumbledore wasn't there to stop any fights edged its way into Harry's mind and he knew that this worry was not unfounded. The way Ron was glowering at Malfoy right then made Harry jump in verbally.  
  
"So which way's the castle?" asked Harry, attempting to distract his friend. He looked to Hermione. "We got really turned around last night. We have no clue which way's which. Please say you know the way back to the castle."  
  
Hermione shook her head apologetically. "I'm sorry. My ankle was hurting so much and I was scared . . . I really wasn't paying attention."  
  
Harry begrudgingly looked over to Malfoy. "What about you?" he asked, though he really didn't want to.  
  
"Nope," said Malfoy airily as though he couldn't have cared less.  
  
Harry considered their situation. "I know that Four-Point spell from last year," he muttered, more to himself than his companions. "But I don't know which direction the castle is in from here, so that's basically useless."  
  
"Well," said Hermione slowly, "I think the forest is south of the castle. So we'd have to go north."  
  
"How sure are you of that, Granger?" asked Malfoy scathingly. "What if you're leading us in the wrong direction all together? Then what, Miss Know-It-All?"  
  
"That's enough out of you, Malfoy," warned Harry. "I swear, I'll put a Silencing Charm on you and take your wand if you don't shut up now. At least Hermione's trying to think of a way out of here. This is your life on the line too, so quit being stupid and actually try to think for once, though I know that's probably too much to ask of you."  
  
Malfoy spun and turned to face Harry, his eyes narrowed. "Say it again, Potter," he dared. "Go on, say it again."  
  
Harry felt, out of nowhere, the rage that had been boiling inside Ron. The hatred in the atmosphere crackled like electricity, so thick you could cut it with a knife. All thoughts of keeping his group together flew from his mind. He did not back down. "I said it's probably too much to ask you to think," he repeated. "That's why you would have been best carrying the backpack."  
  
Draco fingered his wand and Harry watched his hand, moving his own hand on top of his own wand. Draco felt the burning anger and hatred for Harry that he had since the day they'd met. Perhaps he'd found it in him to feel sorry for Hermione, to respect her even, but to be asked to do that with Harry or Ron was simply too much for him. Being in their presence made all thoughts of being the opposite of his father flee from his mind. It was making anger overcome him, making it difficult to be civil to Hermione. All he wanted was to hurt them.  
  
Harry's eyes moved from Draco's wand to his face. "Go on, then," he said bluntly. "Want to duel, then get it over with. I'd love a chance to get back at you for what you've done to Hermione."  
  
Draco sneered. "Upset about your girlfriend, Potter?"  
  
"Words or spells, pick one."  
  
Ron was moving to stand beside Harry, his own wand in his hand. Hermione was watching, but Draco could see her hand near the pocket of her robes, ready to grab her wand should she need to. He tucked his away, knowing he was outnumbered.  
  
"Not here, Potter," he said, shaking his head, his expression ugly. "But one day it'll be just you and me. Then we'll see how strong you are without Weasley to punch me or Granger to protect you with all that knowledge of hers. We'll see who wins in a fair fight."  
  
"High words from one who spent most of his Hogwarts days flanked by two bullies twice his size to protect him," snapped Ron.  
  
"I'll fight you one day, too, Weasley," snarled Draco. "Then you'll be the one feeling what I felt yesterday."  
  
"You're useless, Malfoy!" said Harry in disgust. "All you're good for is wasting time. Name one single thing you've done to help us."  
  
Draco narrowed his eyes at Harry and the two stared unblinkingly for several seconds. "Fine, Potter," said Draco slowly. "You know those notes you got, warning you about the Death Eater attacks?"  
  
Harry's eyes widened. "How do you . . . You? No way."  
  
Draco smirked at him. "You got it, Potter. Those notes were courtesy of me."  
  
"Why would you do that?" asked Ron in suspicion. "You hate Harry-I thought you'd want to see him dead."  
  
"No, I wouldn't care if he was dead," confirmed Draco. He nodded to Hermione. "I did it for her."  
  
Hermione's eyes widened. "Me?" she asked incredulously.  
  
Draco nodded. "I figured it was the least I could do after what I'd done to ruin your life. I figured I could save Potter's and we'd be even." He paused, seeming to consider. "I was wrong. We're not really even."  
  
Their eyes locked for a few seconds before Draco returned to sulky silence, stepping back from the circle they'd formed. Confusion was gnawing at Hermione now. He'd had no reason other than desire to help her to send those notes to Harry in the end and that had ultimately saved most of the occupants of the Great Hall. "Thank you," she said quietly after a moment of silence. He just shrugged, turning his attention to a tree.  
  
Harry and Hermione looked at each other, but neither could read the other's expression. "Well," said Harry, "guess we'd better get going. Point Me." He held his wand in the flattened palm of his hand. It began to swivel quickly, staying in place, and then it stopped instantaneously. It was pointing north, which turned out to be behind them. It was quivering just a little and it remained in the same position as Harry moved, as though it were bound to his hand by some invisible force.  
  
"How sure are you, Hermione?" asked Ron uncertainly, looking north. "Don't get me wrong, I trust you, but . . . this isn't the most average of situations."  
  
"Pretty sure," said Hermione knowledgably.  
  
"Good enough for me," decided Harry. "Haven't got anything better to follow up on."  
  
The four started to walk north in silence. The atmosphere was still heavy and thick surrounding them, discouraging any conversation. There had always been a thin, yet distinct boundary line between Gryffindors and Slytherins that every person in Hogwarts had always been aware of. However, that thin line had grown dark and bright, thick as a wall between the two types of students in the group. However, while the line between the two Houses had become dark and foreboding, the usually thick line between Light and Dark was being blurred. Malfoy was evil, yet he was trying to help them overthrow the Dark. Hermione was good, yet she was now technically a Death Eater. No longer was everything as simple as black and white, as lions and snakes. They were now plunging deeper and deeper into a world of gray where nothing could be sure, where everything could change in an instant and where trust and understanding seemed a pleasurable, but distant fairy tale.  
  
The long silence, the fear, and the unspoken anger began to wear on their nerves. When Hermione stepped on a twig, Ron jumped a foot in the air. When Ron started to ask Harry something, Harry had instantaneously snapped angrily. The silence coming not just from them, but unnaturally from the forest around them frightened them, whether they chose to show it or not. The knowledge that they were not running away from Voldemort, but rather going to meet him, along with the insanity of it all was making them all edgy and jumpy.  
  
Hermione tried to escape the terrible atmosphere by sinking into her own thoughts, though they weren't much better. The further they walked in grim silence, the more she began to dread what she'd agreed to do. Flashes of memory came to her, some of the more terrifying shards of the larger picture. She saw Voldemort touching her arm and putting the Dark Mark on it as she lay helpless and hurt on the bed. She saw him in the Great Hall, yelling at Ron. She shivered involuntarily, the memories still haunting her. She hated Malfoy and she hated his father even more, but neither compared to her hatred and fear of Lord Voldemort. And Voldemort was the man she was now going after. Was she crazy? Suicidal? She couldn't even begin to interpret what had gone through her head when she'd agreed to this. She was no match for Voldemort-he'd kill her, surely. He'd kill Harry and Ron too, the two people she'd been trying her best to protect for months. Now they were all in this together, regardless at her attempts to save them.  
  
They'd both been so helpful to her, Harry in particular. Hermione had known she'd been missing them and had been desperate for a time when she'd be able to tell them everything. Now it had come and while it was just as much a relief as she'd imagined, it was also an unanticipated burden. It frightened her to think that one might die and it would be her fault for seeking them out. They were doing all this for her more than anyone. It was the reason Ron had beat up Malfoy. The reason Harry was so determined. Harry had been so supportive and understanding and while Ron had been less open about it, she didn't doubt for a moment he was just as worried for her as Harry was. She should have left them out this, but no, she'd been too scared. She'd had to run to the only source of support she could think of and now they were in danger because of it. It was the thing she'd been trying to avoid since she'd become a Death Eater, but it had come around anyway. She wouldn't be able to forgive herself if Harry or Ron died because of her.  
  
Harry kept his palm open, his hand outstretched as he walked. The wand would stay stiffly pointed north. If he began to veer off track, the wand would lead him back to the right path. His eyes and feet followed the invisible path paved before him by the wand, but his mind had strayed far from this forest. His fear was beginning to overwhelm him. He'd faced Voldemort before and he knew better than most just how terrifying an experience that was. Something else he knew was the impossibility of the task he was supposed to accomplish. He knew that there was a ninety percent chance that he was walking nearer and nearer to his own demise.  
  
However, his fear was larger than normal-he'd been scared so many times in the past he'd learned how to tame that fear temporarily when needed. Now he was also worrying about Ron and, on an even larger scale, Hermione. Every time he looked at her, no matter how much she maintained that she could do this, he saw the terror in her eyes, sloppily hidden beneath the surface. He could not begin to explain how impressed he was with all she'd managed to handle-a weaker person would have been broken, reduced to a gibbering wreck that would have to be locked away in some distant corner of St. Mungo's. But Hermione was not without her scars, he knew that. He also knew that asking her to handle this last thing could easily be a mistake-even if they did survive, this last encounter might well be the force that would drive her over the razor's edge she'd been balancing on precariously for months. Every time Voldemort's name was mentioned, he could see the flash of fear in her eyes. He knew that fear-it was the same kind he got at the idea of facing Voldemort, only magnified. He'd had horrible experiences with the man that still were frightening at times-he could only imagine how Hermione, who'd been through much worse, felt. To top off his fear for Ron, Hermione, and himself, there was the worry about Draco. He by no means trusted the Slytherin boy-he hated him more deeply than he'd ever thought hatred could run through him. He hated Draco with an intensity matched only by his hatred for Lord Voldemort himself. He was scared for his group to have Draco with them. Harry found it probable that no matter what Dumbledore had said, Draco would betray them. He'd betrayed Hermione, the school, the Key, and the entire Light side. He knew Draco would betray them too, the second he could gain something from it.  
  
Draco was hanging back behind the other three. He shuffled along, resentment coursing through his mind and body. His eyes were narrowed at their backs. He'd known from the moment he and Hermione had escaped that she would want to go back to Harry and Ron and he'd never liked or supported the idea. He'd only followed because, like he'd said, he needed her for her knowledge and he had nowhere else to go. He'd figured that after all that had happened, he could deal with Harry and Ron. He'd been wrong. The moment their eyes had locked for the first time back in the forest, that hatred had been not weaker, but stronger. Through his own guilt and the betrayal of the people he'd once devoted his life to, he'd accepted Hermione and had learned to respect and work with her, even if it wasn't his favorite thing to do. That was something he'd never be able to do with Ron and Harry. This whole mission was insane. He hated himself for agreeing to it. He was walking into the hands of death alongside his archenemies. Never before had Draco had reason to imagine such a demise- now he couldn't stop thinking about it.  
  
Ron was numb to emotion. He walked along in a trancelike state, not really thinking. It was something he did from time to time when something terrible was happening, something he was too afraid to face. He'd done it right after Percy died. His mother had become worried and tried to take him to see a doctor about his "denial". As far as he was concerned his method was better than denial. Denial was the refusal to accept something. Ron was refusing to even think about it. Denial was what he'd been going through back in Dumbledore's hideout. He'd managed to fool himself into thinking things were okay again. He'd been able to laugh and joke again, but neither activity had reached beneath the surface of his mind. Deeper down he knew the truth. Now that he was back in the middle of the danger, he'd unconsciously shut his mind down to everything around him, his anger, his worry, his fear. He was left with an empty feeling, for he had no happy feelings to replace the negative ones, but anything was better than putting up with everything. Dully, he wondered how Hermione was managing to take it all, when he could hardly manage what had happened to him.  
  
It was about two hours of walking before they paused at Harry's command. He'd had no idea just how deeply into the forest they'd entangled themselves. They were all slowing, so Harry had decided that it was better to stop and eat something before they wore themselves out.  
  
Food was a great pleasure compared to the way they'd been going endlessly without it the past two days. There wasn't a great deal of food-enough for three days' travel maybe. Harry doubted they'd need that much, but just in case, he was sure to divide the rations so as not to take up too much of it. There were sandwiches and bread, along with four water bottles that refilled themselves once you were done with them (Harry found this to be a very useful quality).  
  
The food helped them regain their strength. Soon, they had repacked it all and started out again, Harry replacing the Four-Point spell on his wand and preparing for another long walk of silence and discomfort. They kept the water bottles out. It wasn't particularly warm-if anything, it was a bit chilly-but their throats grew dry from the walking and raw from inhaling the crisp, biting air. And as Ron pointed out, if the bottles kept refilling themselves, there wasn't much danger of running out of water, was there?  
  
This time, going at a slower pace, they reached the forest's edge within an hour. They hung back, going no further than it was necessary to. The grounds were less packed with Death Eaters than before-only about four paced the grounds, watching diligently. None seemed to have a guarding position. The reason for this became apparent quickly. At least ten Dementors stood guard over various places. Some were positioned in front of the entrance to the school, while some were in front of Hagrid's hut and the entrances to school grounds. The terrifying sight was enough to take their breath away.  
  
"So, Mr. Human Map," hissed Ron to Malfoy as they backed away slowly. They went far enough away so that they were hidden by the trees and brush more effectively, but they remained close enough to see the grounds. "How do you suggest we even attempt getting into Hogwarts?"  
  
Malfoy shrugged and scowled, attempting to look indifferent, but hints of doubt and fear were making their way across his face despite his efforts. "I dunno, Weasley. What I was implying is that I know how to handle Death Eater encounters, not how to sneak past them, and I said nothing about Dementors. Then again, I should have known better than to assume you were smart enough to pick up on any implications I may give. Get your brain second-hand, too?"  
  
Harry watched Ron's reaction apprehensively. Ron didn't move, but sent a daring glare in Malfoy's direction. Harry knew the only thing stopping him from pouncing on Malfoy was the knowledge that a fight breaking out so close to the forest's edge would get them all caught.  
  
"Well," he said in an effort to minimize the taut tension gripping all four of them, "there's always the Invisibility Cloak."  
  
Draco just turned his attention back toward the grounds, sullen and despondent once more. Ron nodded in approval of Harry's idea. However, the same grim thought seemed to occur to both Harry and Hermione in that same instant. It was Hermione who said it out loud.  
  
"Dementors can see through Invisibility Cloaks."  
  
Ron's face paled, then he groaned. "Oh, we're stupid! How could we have forgotten that? And Dumbledore warned us about Dementors, too! Why can't his "protection" scare them off?"  
  
Harry shrugged helplessly, at a loss. "Maybe they're just too powerfully Dark for him to have an affect on them. Or maybe they're just not enough like living things. I could buy either theory." He thought. "The map?" he suggested, though he didn't sound particularly hopeful. "Maybe there's some passage we can use . . ."  
  
It was worth a shot, likely or not. Harry took the backpack from Ron and rummaged through it until he found the Marauder's Map. Using his wand to make it visible, he looked down-and gasped. The usually clearly labeled dots that were scattered across the map blinked on and off at a rapid pace. The lines that depicted the walls were a faded gray, sometimes fading out entirely, only to return, even lighter, a moment later. The dots no longer were labeled with the name of the person they represented.  
  
"Something's wrong with it!" he cried, a definite note of panic in his voice. Next to his Firebolt, Hedwig, and his Invisibility Cloak, this map was one of his most treasured possessions. Ron and Hermione leaned in to see.  
  
Hermione studied it a moment before announcing into the unwelcoming silence, "It's not broken."  
  
"Look at it!" cried Ron.  
  
"I am," she replied quietly. "It's the Dark magic in the air, Harry. This is a powerful magical device-but it was made with Light magic. It won't work properly in a place so filled with Dark magic."  
  
"I've never heard of that," said Draco scornfully.  
  
"You wouldn't have. Learning something besides what we are taught in class requires reading, something you don't make a habit of. It's called the Opposition Contradiction. When a powerful magical object gets too close to an area with an abundant amount of the type of magic opposite what created it, it will cease to work until it's far enough away. There are exceptions, of course-you can protect something against the Opposition Contradiction, but it's very difficult and extremely advanced. The Marauders, smart as they were, couldn't have managed it. It takes the most powerful of wizards to do it." She looked at Harry again. "Don't worry, it'll work again-just not here."  
  
"Then it doesn't help us much," sighed Harry, tucking the map away, glad that it was at least not destroyed. This was one of the times he was glad for the fact that Hermione's knowledge rivaled that of most encyclopedias. A thought occurred to him. "Tell me-this won't effect the Cloak, right?"  
  
Hermione considered. Finally, she shook her head. "No, I don't think so."  
  
"You don't think so? Oh, now I'm reassured," mocked Draco.  
  
She glared at him, but answered normally. "That Cloak's almost assuredly been protected. Your father probably used it against the Dark wizards, Harry, as most Aurors did. Wouldn't be much help if it stopped working every time you went near any Dark magic. Besides that, the Cloak's been around Dark magic in the past and hasn't been affected. It should be okay."  
  
Harry nodded, Hermione's answer being good enough to send relief flowing throughout him. However, there was still the small obstacle of making it around the Dementors. They all lapsed into silence, trying to think of how to get past the Dementors.  
  
"We could just blast the Dementors with a Patronus and make a run for it," suggested Ron weakly after a long period of silence.  
  
Draco barked out a laugh. "Oh, that's a brilliant idea, Weasley. Cut back on your time with Longbottom."  
  
Ron turned rather red, but didn't retaliate. It was obvious he knew as well as Draco that his idea had been quickly formulated and unstable.  
  
Harry, however, was thinking differently. "Maybe . . . maybe that will work, in a sense." The others stared at him and he scrambled to explain. "Here's what I'm thinking. We wait until dark, when we'll have better cover. Then, we put on the Cloak and sneak out. The Dementors will see us, yes, but the Death Eaters won't. I can perform a Patronus to back the Dementors away and we'll run for the school under the Cloak. The Death Eaters will know we're there somewhere, but they won't be able to see us."  
  
Hermione nodded slowly and Ron was looking happy that his idea had spawned an actual plan. Even Draco appeared to be considering it.  
  
"Problem, Potter," stated Draco. "There are four of us and one very large backpack. That cloak can't fit us all."  
  
He had brought up a good point. Harry thought about it carefully before responding, knowing that every decision they made would bring them closer to success or failure. "I think that four of us can fit under the Cloak, though we'll have to move at a snail's pace," said Harry slowly. "But we'll have to leave the backpack."  
  
"Our food's in there!" cried Ron indignantly.  
  
Harry opened his mouth to respond, but Hermione, who was obviously thinking along the same lines as Harry, said it first. "Well it's more important to get ourselves in there. Besides, once we're in, we're running for Myrtle's bathroom. Once we're in, it's down to the Chamber of Secrets." She shuddered a little. "And once we're down there, food isn't going to matter much. We'll be going up against Him and if we eat again, it'll be after we get out."  
  
A heavy silence followed her words. Everyone agreed, but all were more focused on the "If" part of her statement. They were all aware that their odds weren't great, but none liked hearing it said aloud, so close to when they would be going in to face Voldemort again.  
  
Their plan was decided. It was dangerous, risky, and all around suicidal, but no one disputed it. It was their only chance for getting in there. They backed further away from the forest's edge and waited out the remainder of the day in silence. Somehow, Draco managed to lean back against a tree and fall asleep. Ron would often jump up from where he was sitting to pace for fifteen minutes or so before sitting down for a few minutes, only to do it again. Harry found himself sitting cross-legged in the dirt, drawing circles with his finger nervously in the dust. Hermione stood, walking back and forth every now and then, muttering about spells she thought they'd need under her breath. Harry knew the waiting had to be worse for her than for the rest of them combined. Gradually, she settled down and sat next to Harry. For the rest of the hours, they followed that pattern in silence.  
  
Finally, Harry felt it had grown dark enough. He stood, holding his lighted wand and said, "Let's go." He'd said the words quietly, as a suggestion, but they seemed to have a power of their own, radiating loudly through the dense darkness, awakening Draco and sounding enough like an order to get them all on their feet.  
  
On Ron's suggestion, they delayed once more. They each ate one more sandwich, feeling they'd need to eat before leaving all their food there. Though no one said it aloud, they were all feeling as though it was their last meal. Ron and Draco both ate whole sandwiches. Harry only managed a half. Hermione took one bite before putting hers down, looking as though if she ate anymore to combine with her nerves, she would throw up.  
  
Once more they stood in understanding silence. Harry unfolded his Cloak and tucked the map in his robes. Everyone held their wands at the ready. Harry ordered everyone to keep their wands lit until they reached the edge of the forest, at which point, they would all turn them out, but keep them out in case their plan backfired entirely. No one was to shoot unless necessary.  
  
They walked to the edge of the forest freely. About ten feet from the edge, they stopped and put their wands out. Harry threw the Cloak over them all, making the already complete darkness even darker. Harry, Ron, and Hermione had all been under the Cloak together before and it had been an unpleasant experience. With Draco under it too, the Cloak seemed to stretch tightly over them all. Their feet were still exposed close to the ground.  
  
"Hopefully they won't notice," said Ron. "It's dark . . . and they won't be looking at the ground . . ."  
  
Regardless of Ron's words, all edged out onto the grounds even more apprehensively than they would have. Harry had his wand pointed straight out, focusing on the happiest moment he could think of-the same one he'd used the first time he'd conjured a Patronus in his third year-and convinced himself he was ready.  
  
They'd hoped that they'd have to time to get nearer the castle before the Dementors spotted them, but they had no such luck. They seemed to sense their presence the second they appeared. The ones by Hagrid's hut-the closest-began to drift toward them, silent, menacing. The other two, in front of the Hogwarts doors, were following the suit of their fellow Dementors. They saw no others within their immediate range. The Death Eaters were watching them, alert.  
  
The Dementors had their usual effect. Harry could feel a pain in his skull and could feel despair and fear overtake him. Hermione heard in the back of her mind Voldemort's high voice telling her of her Dark Mark. Ron and Draco each were plagued with their own respective demons.  
  
"EXPECTO PATRONUM!" yelled Harry, praying it would work. It did, much to his relief. A wispy yet distinct silver-white stag erupted from the end of his wand and driving back the Dementors. The two closest ones turned and sped away. The Patronus took a while to reach the other two and by then it was fading away. It did nothing more than delay them and Harry knew he'd have to do it again. "Run," he hissed to his friends, who were feeling the Dementors' presence less strongly now.  
  
The Death Eaters-who had, by now, figured out what was going on-were firing random spells in the general direction of where the Patronus had come from. Some were running towards them, while others were heading for the door. The four ran slowly and clumsily under the Cloak, but made progress nonetheless. By the time they'd made it halfway to the castle, Harry told them to stop and fired a second Patronus at the two Dementors that were drifting nearer. He wasn't sure how he managed two Patronuses strong enough to drive them away in the midst of such a frightful and depressing time, but he did.  
  
They reached the doors and yanked them open, the Death Eaters having been delayed by a spell Draco had shot at them the second time they'd stopped. They came into the Entrance Hall, closing the doors behind them and continuing their slow run over to the doors of the Great Hall. Harry stopped them and pressed his ear against the door, his heart thudding in his chest. He could hear noise on the other side.  
  
Hermione made a choked noise and they looked back. The doors had burst open and the Death Eaters Draco had delayed were running in. They backed away quickly, pressing against a wall and kneeling down so the Cloak fell over their feet as well. They barely missed the Death Eaters, who ran through the doors to the Great Hall a moment later.  
  
Harry, annoyed at all the difficulty the Cloak caused when forced to conceal four of them, whipped it off. Hermione gasped, grateful for the fresh air. She was trembling from the Dementors' effect on her. Perhaps in their third year the Dementors had been worse for Harry, but now they had just as strong an effect on her.  
  
"What are you doing?" asked Ron, eyeing Harry as though he'd grown a second head.  
  
"You've gone mad! We're exposed!" snapped Draco.  
  
Harry shook his head and silenced them with a finger to his lips. He nodded toward the other doorway-the one that headed in the direction of a mainly disused corridor, a more direct way to the kitchens. They found the door not only unlocked, but also slightly ajar, which gave them a nervous feeling. They stepped through the doorway, closing it behind them.  
  
A narrow, empty corridor lay ahead. Draco rounded on Harry the moment the door was closed. "Now what, Potter? Where do we go now?" He didn't sound angry and scornful as usual. Instead, he sounded panicked and questioning. He wasn't questioning Harry's leadership skills, Harry was shocked to realize, but instead was asking for his help.  
  
"Uh," said Harry, desperately trying to figure out a plan in his confused state.  
  
"The kitchens?" suggested Hermione. They all looked at her. "I don't know! Maybe we can hide out there for a while . . . the House-Elves will be glad to help us and this corridor does lead there. I also don't see why Death Eaters would be in the kitchen! Anywhere, just not here."  
  
Harry wasn't sure he liked the idea of the kitchens, where the House-Elves may have been forced to obey the Death Eaters. Harry knew from experience just how hard it was for a House-Elf to disobey his master. However, he could see the terror in Hermione's face at being so exposed and couldn't bring himself to make them stand there without a destination any longer than they had to.  
  
"Okay," he sighed. "Kitchens. Let's go."  
  
They walked cautiously down the corridor, looking behind them every few seconds and jumping at every sound. They finally reached the large portrait of a bowl of fruit that hung in front of the entrance to the kitchens. Just as Harry was reaching up to tickle the pear, he heard a familiar cry from behind him and felt himself thrown into the portrait by a sudden weight holding onto his waist.  
  
"Harry Potter, sir!"  
  
Harry struggled to turn around and saw none other than Dobby standing behind him. Dobby didn't look delighted, as usual. He looked relieved, but not happy. Harry was about to ask where the House-Elf had come from when the question was answered for him by a wall sliding into place behind him. Next to him, lurking further behind, was another Elf, one Harry had never seen before.  
  
"Dobby!" said Harry, not bothering to pretend to look happy himself.  
  
"Dobby?" echoed Draco, sounding confused and disbelieving. Dobby had once been his House-Elf and he'd had no idea that the elf now worked for Hogwarts.  
  
Dobby turned his eyes to Draco and his face darkened. "You is not speaking to me," said Dobby haughtily, "and I is not speaking to you. I is a free elf now and you is not going to take that away from me! You is not going to be hurting Dobby anymore. Besides that, you is a bad wizard! I is seeing you being called up by He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named! You was not before- only your father."  
  
The other three turned to look at Draco, who seemed stunned and shocked at the flaying his one-time House-Elf was giving him. He just nodded dumbly, remaining silent.  
  
"Dobby, what are you doing here?" asked Harry. "Where'd you come from and why-"  
  
"I has been waiting, Harry Potter, sir," Dobby informed Harry grimly. "I is knowing you would come. You has come for your friend!"  
  
Hermione, Harry, and Ron exchanged looks. "Friend?" questioned Harry in confusion. "What friend?"  
  
Dobby appeared shocked. "You is not knowing, sir? I is assuming you is knowing! He was saying you is probably knowing and for me to warn to you not to come looking for him, sir, he does not want you risking your life for him, sir!"  
  
Harry, feeling his head beginning to spin at the roundabout way the Elf had of talking, held up a hand. "Slow down, Dobby. I don't know what you are speaking of. What friend? Who's being held here?"  
  
Dobby paused and considered how to speak. "He is saying he is your godfather, sir," said Dobby slowly.  
  
Harry's eyes widened. "Sirius?" he cried. "Sirius is here? Did he say his name is Sirius? Where is he?"  
  
Dobby took a step back, his ears lowering a bit. "I . . . I should not be saying, sir. He is asking me not to tell you where he is sir, he is not wanting you to be in danger, sir, and neither is I!"  
  
"Dobby, please, tell us where he is," begged Ron, kneeling down so he was at eye-level with Dobby.  
  
Dobby seemed to be torn. "I is promising! I is promising I will warn you not to come, sir! But he is seeming like he is a nice person and he is a friend of Harry Potter, so he must be good. I is not wanting to see him die at the hands of the Death Eaters like so many others have, but I is not able to break my promise. I is not able to take you, Harry Potter." Harry felt his heart sink, but then Dobby surprised him by finishing, "I can take one of your friends, though, sir. I did not promise I will warn them, sir."  
  
Harry turned to look at Ron and Hermione. He opened his mouth to suggest Hermione go, but Ron cut him off by saying, "I'll do it." They turned to look at him. He looked shocked himself. "I dunno where that came from," he muttered, "but I guess I will. I like Sirius and I want to help him. Can't be Draco, can't be you, Harry. Hermione, if you want to, though . . ."  
  
"No," she said quietly, shaking her head.  
  
"Hermione, there's no shame in your doing it," said Harry gently. "You won't be running away from the encounter or anything-you'd be using your head if you did this instead."  
  
"I would, but I can't," said Hermione. "Remember the prophecy? 'The fourth must avenge a deep anger from further outside the battle . . ." That's you, Ron. Like Dumbledore said, you want to avenge your brother. This is doing it outside. This is why you spoke up without really thinking. You're supposed to do this." In a softer tone, she added, "And I'm supposed to go on."  
  
He watched her. "You sure, 'Mione? We can change it. All we have to do is change jobs." Hermione nodded and Ron looked to Dobby with grim acceptance. "Okay, then, Dobby. I'll go to Sirius."  
  
Dobby looked pleased with himself. He looked at Hermione as though seeing her for the first time. His expression went blank and Hermione felt herself go red with shame. If Dobby had seen Malfoy showing off the Dark Mark to the Great Hall, he'd certainly seen her, as well. She said this aloud.  
  
Dobby nodded. "Yes, miss, I is seeing you, but I is not understanding. You is Harry Potter's friend and Wheezy's friend and I is not understanding how you is a bad witch. You is the one who is kind enough to try and get other House-Elves their freedoms, miss. It is not making sense to me."  
  
"It's a misunderstanding, Dobby," said Harry fiercely. "Hermione's a good witch. You were right."  
  
Dobby seemed satisfied with that and smiled at Hermione. "I am sorry, miss. I can lead you, Mr. Harry Potter's friend, through underground House- Elf channels like the one I is just using to take you. I can lead you, Harry Potter sir, and your friends out of the school, too."  
  
Harry and Hermione exchanged looks. "We're not leaving, Dobby," said Harry. "We need to go to the girls' bathroom on the second floor-the one that Moaning Myrtle haunts. Do you have a secret passage that can take us there? One that the Death Eaters don't know about?"  
  
Dobby appeared offended. "The Death Eaters is not knowing about our passages, sir, the Death Eaters is not smart enough and is having too much ego to use them even if they is knowing about them. I can take you, but why is you wanting to go there?"  
  
"Well, Dobby, you remember our second year, I take it? The Chamber of Secrets?"  
  
Dobby's eyes widened and he nodded. "Yes, sir. Those were scary times, sir, very scary-though not as scary as now."  
  
"Well, the entrance to the Chamber of Secrets is in that bathroom. And we need to get in there," said Harry by way of explanation.  
  
Dobby let loose a cry and pounced on Harry again, wrapping his arms painfully tight around Harry's stomach and crying loud sobs. "No! No, Harry Potter, you is not going to the Chamber of Secrets, you is not! I is not letting you! There is rumors that You-Know-Who is in there! You is leaving Hogwarts, Harry Potter, you is not going!"  
  
"I am," said Harry stubbornly. "I've spoken to Dumbledore. We're the only chance of bringing Voldemort down. We have to do this. And you have to lead us there. Do you want this to go on? Do you want the Death Eaters to have permanent control of the school? Just because they haven't found the House-Elves yet doesn't mean-"  
  
"They is finding the House-Elves, sir," said Dobby grimly, backing away and wiping away a large tear. "In the kitchens is a terrible sight. Many of my friends are dead because of them. I is one of the lucky few who is escaping to hide out, sir. I is going down to the dungeons and I is seeing your godfather, sir, that is how I is knowing. He is knowing about me from you, sir, and he is asking if I is the Elf Harry Potter spoke of. I is not wanting this to continue, no."  
  
"Then lead us to Myrtle's bathroom," said Draco, speaking for the first time since Dobby had yelled at him.  
  
Dobby looked like he was about to snap at him again, but Harry stepped in with one word: "Please?"  
  
Dobby's face softened and he nodded sadly. "I is not wanting to lose you too, sir. But if it is our only hope . . . I is helping you as much as I is capable of. I is leading you to the bathroom, sir."  
  
Dobby opened the passage again by tapping on the wall. Harry was unsure of how he did it, but the wall swung back, revealing a long, low, dark corridor. Dobby pointed at it. "You is needing to light your wands and crawl, sirs and miss. It is being the only way."  
  
Harry, Ron, Draco, and Hermione all followed these instructions. The two Elves got in first, walking ahead. Harry entered first, on hands and knees, his wand clenched between his teeth. Hermione went next, then Ron, then Draco. When all were packed in in a single file, Dobby said a word that was so soft Harry couldn't hear it to seal the passageway behind them again.  
  
No one talked. Dobby and the second Elf walked ahead. There were branching passageways every so often, but they were led straight along the same corridor. It was tight in the passage, making Hermione glad she was not claustrophobic. Sometimes, when they came to a turn, the passage would become so tight her shoulders scraped the sides of the passage. Finally, Dobby stopped them in front of a side passage.  
  
"This is the direction to the dungeon, Harry Potter's friend," said Dobby. "My friend Elnor will take you. I is wishing you the best of luck."  
  
Dobby, Harry, and Hermione had to move ahead so Ron was in front of the passage and could turn in. "Bye, guys," he said softly to them, appearing torn. "I don't like this. I want to come with you. What if you need me?"  
  
"Fat chance of that, Weasley," sneered Draco, but his voice was drown out by Harry's.  
  
"It's the prophecy, Ron, just like Hermione said. There's no fighting it. We have to do this. Good luck, pal."  
  
Ron nodded, still not looking happy about the arrangements. "Okay, then. Good luck to you, too." He sent a glance back at Draco, though he couldn't really see him over his shoulder. "Watch out for him, though."  
  
Harry pulled the Invisibility Cloak out from under his robes and fingered the silvery soft material. He handed it to Ron. "Here."  
  
Ron looked shocked and pushed the Cloak back, shaking his head. "No, I can't. It's yours. You'll need it more than I will."  
  
"I'm not giving it to you," said Harry. "I'm loaning it to you. We'll meet up again and you can give it back. You'll need it. Security is sure to be tight. Besides, if we're caught this close, they'll take us right to Voldemort anyway. We'll be in the exact same position that we were going to put ourselves in. Just take it, Ron."  
  
Ron considered, and then nodded. "Okay. Thanks, Harry." Those were the last words he said before turning and beginning to crawl after Dobby's friend Elnor. Draco moved up so that he was closer to the other two and Dobby led them out again.  
  
It wasn't much longer before Hermione felt her knees beginning to bruise. The passage was made of stone all the way around and crawling hurt. Her hands were okay, but her knees had long since begun to feel the impact. She didn't feel as though she could crawl much further. She thought they were getting closer though, because they'd been going at an upward slant and now it had evened out.  
  
Sure enough, her guess was correct. Dobby stopped not long after at an apparently solid wall and said the same word again. The wall sprang open, displaying a deserted corridor. They were slightly off the ground, maybe up a foot in the wall. Dobby moved further forward in the tunnel so they could hop out. Harry jumped down out of the passage, relieved to be standing again, feeling the strain on his back and the relief of fresh air hitting his face instead of the stale, warm air of the never-ending passage. Hermione came out a moment later, rubbing her knees and then came Draco, appearing totally unaffected.  
  
Harry moved up to the passage entrance where he could see Dobby still. "Thanks, Dobby. I know you didn't want to do this, so thank you."  
  
"You is not needing to thank me, sir," said Dobby, shaking his head. "You is just needing to succeed. I is wishing you the best of luck."  
  
"Go and see if you can help Ron, okay?" asked Harry. "If you can. I trust your friend, but I'd prefer if he were with you."  
  
Dobby looked touched and his large eyes filled with tears. Harry knew that had he not been in the passage and Harry in the corridor, Dobby would have hugged him again. His voice took on a stern tone. "You is going to live."  
  
Harry grinned a little at that. "It's something I'll work hard at."  
  
"You is going to defeat the Dark Lord yet again, Harry Potter sir, I is knowing it!"  
  
"Thanks for that vote of confidence," said Harry sincerely, though his heart was sinking at the amount of faith Dobby was placing in him. What if Dobby was wrong to put that much faith in him? "You'd better move it before a Death Eater comes along and so should we. Thanks again."  
  
Dobby wished him good luck a last time and then the doorway to the passage disappeared, leaving them staring at a wall.  
  
"Well," said Draco, the first to break the silence, "that was certainly unexpected."  
  
"Yeah, you should be ashamed of the way you treated him," snapped Harry. "He just made things a lot easier on us."  
  
"I don't need you to lecture me about the way I conducted myself around my old House-Elf," said Draco in annoyance. "Not now, not ever. Just drop it and shut up."  
  
Harry did, looking around himself instead. He immediately recognized the corridor they were in to be one over from Myrtle's bathroom. Harry felt an odd sense of serenity at being inside Hogwarts walls once more, but that was doused quickly by the knowledge of who was now running the school he called home.  
  
The three walked toward Myrtle's bathroom, peeking around every corner before turning it, ducking under every window of every classroom door. The conspicuous absence of Ron weighed heavily in Harry and Hermione's minds.  
  
Finally, they reached the corner around which was Myrtle's bathroom. Harry followed the procedure they'd been using, pressing his back against the wall and peering around it cautiously. He looked back at them, shocked. "No one's there."  
  
"No one's guarding it?" asked Draco, looking himself. He looked back at Harry and Hermione, his usual distaste for them banished temporarily from his thoughts. "I don't like it," he stated. "This has been way too easy. From step one it has been. Dumbledore didn't make it this easy for us before and that was when we were farther away. Now we're just about to enter the Chamber of Secrets and there's no one to stop us? Something's wrong here."  
  
Hermione agreed. "Yes, you're right," she said. "However, what else can we do but try and go in? The longer we wait here, the more chance there is of interference. We can't afford to be caught. Besides, maybe they're just relying on the fact that no one can get into the Chamber of Secrets without knowing Parseltongue."  
  
"I'd almost welcome some Death Eater strolling along," retorted Draco. "It'd put my mind at ease. And Voldemort knows Potter's trying to get in here and that he's a Parseltongue, so that excuse is lame. But I guess you're right. Might as well try."  
  
The three edged around the corridor and headed to the door of the bathroom. They opened the door and dodged to the side in case any unfriendly spells came out. Nothing happened. Harry and Hermione looked in, but the bathroom was deserted except for one Death Eater, asleep in a chair by the sinks. Draco stunned him without thinking. The only difference in the Death Eater's appearance was now he was slouched more.  
  
"Malfoy's right," said Harry. "Something's seriously wrong. Only one Death Eater who happens to be asleep guarding it?" He shook his head. "No way. I don't believe it. Not even Dumbledore and his team could do this."  
  
For once, Moaning Myrtle did not show herself, which worried Harry further. She was always there and the Death Eaters couldn't kill a ghost. Myrtle could have hidden in a toilet to avoid being attacked by the Death Eaters in case they tried anyway, but he assumed she'd have showed herself to them.  
  
Harry walked over to the sink and looked at the sides of each faucet until he found again the one with the serpent on its side. He looked at Draco and Hermione. Draco was loitering behind apprehensively, shaking his head. Hermione was right next to him. He put a hand on her shoulder and could feel her trembling. Almost as though it were a contagious disease, he felt himself begin to tremble as well.  
  
"Should we do this?" he asked.  
  
"We don't have a choice," whispered Hermione. "We have to."  
  
"No, we don't. We can still turn around," he suggested, but he didn't take himself seriously. He knew that he would go down there no matter what. He wasn't going to leave the Light side to be overtaken entirely without at least trying to help. He faced the sink again and said in Parseltongue, "Open up!"  
  
The sink pulled back, just like the last time, sinking deep into the floor and revealing the long, slimy pipe leading to the Chamber of Secrets. His stomach turned and his heart raced. His breathing quickened and he went pale. This was worse than the first time they'd gone down. This time they knew what was waiting-and knew their odds of surviving. No Fawkes, no Sorting Hat, no Gryffindor Sword. Just him, Hermione, and his enemy of five years, Draco Malfoy, up against some of the most impossible odds known to the planet.  
  
"Is it bad down there?" asked Hermione in a whisper and Harry was reminded that she'd not been with them the last time they'd gone down. Her eyes were focused on the hole before them and her face was blank.  
  
"Yes," he replied, not bothering to hide the truth. "It's terrible."  
  
Draco stepped up on his other side, looking down at the hole. "Well," he said grimly, "let's go, then." He jumped into the dark, spiraling, downward tube without hesitation and disappeared a moment later.  
  
Harry and Hermione looked at each other. "I'll go first," said Harry and Hermione nodded. "It's not too hard a landing, don't worry."  
  
She watched him jump in himself and waited at least thirty seconds. She sighed and looked behind her at the unconscious guard and open door. She couldn't suppress the terrifying thought that this was the last she'd see of Hogwarts. Not allowing herself another moment of self-pity and fear, she hopped in.  
  
A/n: R/r! 


	17. Destiny's Battle part two

A/n: WARNING-Character death! This chapter is also pretty violent and dark. This is the climax chapter and I hope you all enjoy the way I ended it!  
  
Destiny's Battle-part 2  
  
The ride down was a long, dark one. She felt the air whipping her face and could feel the grime under her, making it slippery and uncontrollable. Finally the pipe ended and she shot out of the end of it, landing on the stone floor. Harry was by her side in an instant, helping her to her feet. Draco stood off to one side, shining his wand light around them into the gloom.  
  
Harry had been right-it was terrible. It was dark and dismal, a place where the sun had never touched. Cobwebs, long and foreboding, hung from the cracked stone ceiling high above, and various bones littered the ground at her feet. She felt the feeling of inescapable death and despair that the place projected clutching at her. Any shreds of hope she'd had were squeezed from her and suddenly all she wanted to do was go back.  
  
"Lead the way, Potter," said Draco quietly. Harry looked at him, and then back again at the path he'd taken the last time he'd been here. It was a place he'd never wanted to visit again.  
  
Harry picked out a path through long, dark, spacious corridors. He could feel his scar growing steadily more painful every step of the way. It had been aching dully since this whole thing had begun with the overtaking of Hogwarts and he'd learned to live with it. Now, though, it was getting worse, to the point where Harry could write it off no longer. He was looking for landmarks to judge the distance he'd gone. He almost missed the first mark, something he'd felt would be obvious when they got to it. Had Draco not stopped him, he'd have missed it entirely.  
  
"Looks like rocks fell here," stated Draco, shining his wand light at large piles of rock along the sides of the corridor that Harry had not taken notice of. His heart sank. They were getting closer.  
  
"Yeah," said Harry. "That was from the first time I was in here. Guess it's been cleared by the Death Eaters." Draco said nothing else and Harry offered no more.  
  
It was a time before they reached the next landmark-the large circular doorway in the wall with the serpents on it that led to the main chamber- the one where he knew they'd find Voldemort. Hermione stuck close to him the whole time, which he was grateful for. He was terrified and having her near helped, though he knew she had to be far more frightened than he. When the doorway finally loomed ahead, the two snakes just as large and realistic as ever, Harry could feel her steps falter. She may not know the layout of the place as he did, but she knew that this was the last chance to turn back, the doorway that would lead her to the man she feared above all others. Harry grasped her hand reassuringly and they stepped up to the doorway, which was at least three times their height.  
  
"Ready, guys?" he asked. Draco nodded resolutely, his face blank, but sheet-white. Hermione, shaking harder than ever, whispered yes. "Open up."  
  
The snakes moved around the doorway, startling Hermione into gasping a little. Finally, the doorway swung back, revealing the chamber into which they must go. The chamber wherein lay their destiny and the fulfillment of the prophecy.  
  
They stepped through. Hermione wasn't sure what she expected to happen. None of them had thought about what they'd do once they were in here. It was pointless to try to hide and use a sneak attack, Voldemort would know. Were they just going to present themselves to him? Fresh and willing victims? More than ever she felt the stupidity of the plan weighing on her.  
  
There was a long walkway of stone lined by rock-carved snakeheads leading up to a giant head in the back. In front of it, Voldemort's throne-she could think of no other word for it-the same one she'd seen when she'd been held over the holidays, had been set up. In it sat Lord Voldemort, as he stared at them unblinkingly. He had no reaction, no shock, no anger. He simply sat there, staring, his red eyes boring into them like pinpricks of light through the shadows.  
  
That's when the realization dawned on all three-he'd known. He'd known they were coming. That was why everything had been so easy. He'd let them walk right into his own chamber. It made perfect sense. Let the enemy come to him. They'd walked into a trap.  
  
"Welcome, children," said Voldemort, his high voice echoing throughout the cavernous room. Torches had been set in the walls and the shadows the fire created danced across Voldemort's face as he spoke, contorting it into frightening new shapes.  
  
Harry heard Hermione let out a faint whimper next to him and he wrapped his arm around her shoulders quickly, pulling her to him. She was shaking harder than ever, twice as hard as he. Draco stood off to the side as usual, resolute and grim, watching. "I told you," was all he said. "I told you it was too easy."  
  
Voldemort stood but did not move forward, staring down at them. Standing up had cast his face so high in the air that it was completely shrouded in shadow, leaving only the vaguest of outlines detectable-yet his coal-red eyes seemed to have a life of their own, burning through the blackness and into them.  
  
"Yes, Draco, you did," said Voldemort, making Draco stiffen. "If only they'd listened. Because now you are in quite a vulnerable position."  
  
"You knew we were coming all along, didn't you?" asked Harry through gritted teeth, his anger magnified by the fact that Hermione was now shaking so hard he feared she was about to go into convulsions. "How?"  
  
Voldemort's laughter rang throughout the cavern, shaking them to the cores of their bones. "You foolish boy! You think you are any match for Lord Voldemort? I have been waiting, watching you. Not all the simplicity is at Dumbledore's hands. I, too, have been doing my share. I knew where you were heading. I felt it was easier to let you come to me. It was so obvious you would attempt to destroy me-you have too much sense of nobility. Of course you'd attempt to do what it appeared no one else could and what no one else can. I have been watching the Mudblood since she escaped."  
  
Hermione's breath caught in her throat. Instantly, her thoughts turned to Draco. Had he been betraying her secretly the whole time?  
  
Her assumptions were wrong. Voldemort continued, "I told you in the beginning your mark was special. I didn't get just a general picture for you-I saw where you were every step of the way. The exception being, of course, when Dumbledore pulled you away. I recognized the magic to be his instantly. He, however, did not realize I had a firmer trace on you. I am stronger than I was before, that will soon be known to everyone, no matter where they try to flee. And if the Muggles care to join in, then they too can learn. You three will be the first to understand the power I now hold and the stupidity required to even attempt to go against me. You are in quite a fix. The girl can't fight against me with magic and if she attempts to do it physically, I will knock her out of the way before she takes two steps. Draco can defy me, certainly, but he can do less damage because he is a Death Eater. You, Harry, are once again on your own. Only this time they'll die alongside you and this time you have not the protection your mother gave you. Come forward!"  
  
Harry hesitated. Hermione's feet were planted firmly to the ground. She appeared to be frozen to the spot. I was right, he thought sadly and grimly. This is too much for her.  
  
However, she proved him wrong by snapping out of her stupor a moment later and looking at him. She nodded very meekly. They had to go. They had no choice. Slowly, the three moved up along the stone walkway until they had reached the end of it. They stopped simultaneously, refusing to take another step.  
  
Voldemort didn't seem to mind their refusal to come any further. He said calmly into the darkness, "Wormtail?"  
  
From behind his chair, Wormtail came, hunched over, looking afraid yet cocky as always. The only real difference they could see in him was a hand made of silver, glowing light attached to his right wrist. It poked out through the sleeve of his robes, a flashlight in the darkness. He looked up and met Harry's eyes. Harry glared and Wormtail looked to Voldemort, anticipation on his face.  
  
"Wormtail, you are to fetch me Lucius Malfoy," ordered Voldemort calmly, looking at his servant through half-closed eyes.  
  
At this, Harry felt Hermione stiffen and heard her whisper in horror, "Oh, God . . ." Voldemort looked to her, aware of her reaction and she looked down, pressing closer to Harry.  
  
"But . . . but, My Lord," said Wormtail meekly, not daring to meet Voldemort's eyes, "wouldn't it make more sense to just summon him through his mark as you do the rest of us?"  
  
"Lucius is a busy man, Wormtail! He has many important duties to perform for me. He could be in the middle of such a duty as we speak. I do not intend to break him from it if it is not absolutely necessary." He looked to Hermione and Draco. "I just thought he'd enjoy having the pleasure of killing his son. I will leave the leave the entrances open so you can come back freely." He followed this with a few rapid words in Parseltongue meant to open both doors.  
  
Harry looked at Draco. Draco was not moving, meeting the Dark Lord's eyes with an unblinking and unreadable face. He did not appear scared or angry. His back was straight, though, an unnatural straight as though he were under the Full-Body Bind. Harry supposed Draco would show no more than that by way of fear.  
  
"Yes, My Lord, of course," said Wormtail in his sickly-sweet voice. He turned and walked briskly past them, brushing Draco lightly as he walked past. Still, Draco did not move.  
  
Draco was too deeply in his own thoughts to truly take into account what was happening. He was going to die; he knew that now without any doubt or any regret. His life had not been something particularly worth living and after everything that had transpired, death seemed even less imposing to him. The only thing he felt was a slight tightness in his stomach, no more than mere nerves. He was shaken by his own lack of emotion. He'd always known he was disconnected in the emotional sense, but he'd never thought he was this disconnected.  
  
He looked over at Harry and Hermione. His eyes traveled right past Harry, who stood tall, his face angry and bold, masking a deeper terror. Instead, his eyes settled on Hermione. She was breathing fast and shaking harder than he'd thought a person could. She was completely pale. It was his fault she was in this, he thought grimly. He'd put her here. She didn't deserve this. No longer was his mind conflicted in that aspect. He regretted ruining her life and putting her in such a situation. It was the only regret he had. He wished there was something he could do to fix that.  
  
They stood in silence for at least a minute before Voldemort's cold voice reached them all once more. "How do you feel now, hmm? Not so brave anymore, obviously. To run away was a foolish thing, Draco. Something I'd expect of the Mudblood-something I'd never have expected of you."  
  
"Yeah," muttered Draco in a low tone. "There are a lot of things you didn't think I was capable of. I showed you that much. My life wasn't a total waste."  
  
"I'd think again about that, Draco. You were no more than a nuisance to everyone around you. Your father had to raise you, you were a liability to me, and it is your fault that the Light side-which you so openly now choose over Dark-is in such a predicament. It's your fault your peers stand beside you now. Your life was not a waste, no-instead, you used your life to ruin the lives of those around you."  
  
Draco tried to steer the words from his mind, but for some reason they planted themselves there, digging at him like daggers that he could not pull out.  
  
The tension in the air was unbearable to Harry. He knew as Draco did that they were going to die. They'd been stupid to think there was anything they could do. The second any of them reached for their wands, Voldemort would shoot it from their hand. He was watching them all carefully-his eye would catch the slightest of movement from them. However, unlike Draco, he couldn't handle it. He wanted to live, but if they were to live out the last moments of their lives like this, he couldn't take it. He was fed up with the waiting.  
  
"Stop this!" he snarled. "Just do what you're going to do and get it over with! We're tired of waiting!"  
  
Voldemort watched him. "I was waiting for Lucius to come back and have the pleasure of killing off his son and the Mudblood, who have caused him so much trouble. However, I can kill you and her now, if you wish. Draco can wait. Girl! Come forward!" He began to laugh.  
  
Hermione, crying, shook her head and took a step back. "No," she whispered. She didn't know what possessed her to say the word aloud, but she did.  
  
The laughter came to an abrupt and startling halt. His eyes sharpened dangerously. "No? You don't want to come, then? Perhaps I should simply come to you. Would you prefer that, defiant, foolish Mudblood?"  
  
Voldemort took a step forward, raising his wand. Harry's eyes widened, knowing the intended curse. He knew they'd all die, but he wouldn't let Voldemort touch Hermione, not as long as he lived. He knew that deep within him. There was no hesitation to jump in front of her and yell, "NO!"  
  
Voldemort paused, looking now at Harry. Harry did not quail away in fear. He continued, "You won't touch her. Not as long as I'm here."  
  
Harry expected Voldemort to grow angry, to fire a curse in his direction. Truth be told, he'd actually welcome death to this torture of waiting and hatred, to this pain of wondering whether or not Hermione would be killed before his eyes. Instead, Voldemort sneered at him. "Oh, Harry, you love this Mudblood enough to risk your life for her? It is history repeating itself. First your father and you Mudblood mother, now this." Voldemort made a tutting sound as though he were disappointed, all the while his eyes were dancing in morbid glee. "You father would be disappointed that you had not learned from his mistakes."  
  
In that instant, something snapped inside Harry. Whether it was Voldemort's insults and attempts at hurting Hermione, the taunts about his parents, or just everything compiled together, he didn't know. All he knew was that he would hold back no longer.  
  
"You don't know how my father would react and thanks to you, neither do I! But I think he'd see what I do-something a twisted monster like you isn't capable of seeing. Love is worth fighting for. You don't know anything about love. I doubt you've ever felt such an emotion for anyone, so don't talk about it!"  
  
An angry, tense silence followed Harry's outburst. Hermione was watching Voldemort apprehensively from behind him. Draco stared at Harry, something similar to admiration lurking deep within his eyes. Harry stood strong and tall, refusing to regret his words. Even as fear and doubt began to tunnel themselves deeper into his mind.  
  
Voldemort's slit-like red eyes were now flashing furiously. His body seemed to cast them all into shadow, he loomed so tall and imposing. When he spoke, his words were slow and quiet, but more menacing than even his shout. "Love is nothing more than a weakness, something I have long ago recognized. It's a bit of knowledge that helped me gain the type of power you now shiver before. When you love someone, that person creates a weakness in you, something that can be exploited by an enemy. The less weaknesses you have, the stronger you are. The more people you love, the weaker you are. That is a lesson you will soon learn the hard way, Harry. I won't kill her, but as soon as Lucius returns, you will be allowed to watch your dear Mudblood die, be able to hear her screams, see her panic, just as your father watched your mother die. Then you will understand the weakness."  
  
Harry wrapped his arms around Hermione again, the fear for her chasing away all fear for himself. He knew testing Voldemort again was a bad idea, but the words had left his lips before he could stop them. "Love is a strength," he countered. He winced inwardly, waiting for Voldemort's reaction. He expected to feel the splitting pain of the Cruciatus Curse, or perhaps even see the blinding green light of the Killing Curse. Instead, Voldemort surprised him by laughing again, the high, cold sound sending shivers down their spines.  
  
"And just how is that, boy?" he asked, sounding amused.  
  
Harry was shocked by the reaction and had to work hard to maintain his cool composure. He gathered his thoughts. "Because when you love someone it drives you to do things you wouldn't do for yourself. I wouldn't be here if I didn't care for the well being of my friends. Love gives you a reason to live, to do everything you do. To live a life without love is to have no reason to live."  
  
"And yet where has your love for the Mudblood gotten you? At the feet of death, like cattle in the slaughter line. You put her there because you love her?"  
  
Harry could think of no reply.  
  
A distant clatter echoed in the darkness, turning everyone's heads. Lucius was striding along the path towards them, Wormtail running more slowly behind him. Draco took an involuntary step out of the way. "I'm sorry, Granger," he whispered impulsively. His father was there and he had no doubt that he would not survive this encounter. He wanted her to know before he died. "I mean it. I'm sorry for everything."  
  
Hermione looked at him and nodded. "I'm sorry, too," she replied.  
  
Draco looked at Harry. "I'm sorry to you too, Potter . . . Harry. I'm sorry the hatred my father brought me up with has effected me for this long- I'm sorry it effected you. If it's any consolation, my father was wrong about you. And so was I."  
  
Harry stared at him for a moment. "And I was wrong about you, Draco." There was no more time to say anything else.  
  
Lucius wasted no time with greetings. He grabbed his son by both arms and threw the boy down onto the floor. Draco cried out angrily as his head hit the stone. Lucius kicked at him furiously, screaming a word between each kick: "YOU'RE-DEAD-BOY!"  
  
Hermione buried her face in Harry's shoulder, unable to watch Lucius beat Draco in such a similar fashion to how he'd beaten her. Harry watched in horror. Something had happened a moment before when the two boys' eyes had locked. It wasn't quite forgiveness, but something similar. It had been acceptance and unity. He suddenly felt terribly sorry for Draco. He was so helpless, lying on the floor between him and Voldemort, being beaten by his own father. But Harry was too scared to interfere-not for himself, but for Hermione. Lucius was in such a rage at his son that he had not yet taken notice of Hermione's presence. He would do nothing to draw that attention to her, especially when he was so angry.  
  
Draco rolled away from his father's blows, his sides aching from the kicks. He tried to stand but was knocked back again but his father's fist, catching him round the jaw. He pulled out his wand and yelled through a mouth of blood, "Expelliarmus!" His voice came out more of gasp and he was surprised the spell was successful, knocking his father's wand from his hand. Draco didn't bother catching it, letting it land on the ground some distance behind him.  
  
Lucius looked momentarily stunned as Draco climbed to his feet. Then his rage returned and he headed forward to hit Draco again when Voldemort's shout stopped him cold in his tracks.  
  
"Lucius! Stop this now!"  
  
Lucius had been so angry; it appeared he'd been unaware of even the Dark Lord's presence. He dropped to his knees in a typical greeting, crawling forward and kissing the hem of Voldemort's robes before standing. "Yes, My Lord."  
  
Voldemort surveyed him. "Lucius, I understand your desire for torture, but we have other matters to attend to-namely, them." He waved his hand in Harry and Hermione's general direction, allowing Lucius to notice them for the first time. "You may keep the boy alive and torture him later, but if that is your wish, do kill the girl now so I can move on to killing the boy."  
  
Lucius's eyes turned back to his son, then back to Voldemort. "Yes, My Lord. But why can't you kill the boy, then I kill the girl? What does it matter?"  
  
"It matters because I say it matters!" roared Voldemort. "I want the boy to see her die and I want her to suffer while she dies so he can witness that as well!"  
  
Lucius nodded and turned back to the three teenagers. He walked over to where his wand had landed and picked it up. Draco was standing off to the side, gasping for air and in pain. Hermione was beginning to struggle against Harry, to try and run. Harry knew this was a bad idea and held her tighter, pushing her behind him so that she was out of the range of the Lucius's wand.  
  
"No, please." He was begging now, though he knew it would make no difference. Tears were forming in his eyes. Not Hermione. She and Ron were the two people he loved most in the world-he couldn't take it if she died. Her in particular, after everything she'd been through. "Don't kill her. Kill me, just leave her alone!"  
  
Lucius sneered, almost a mirror image of the sneer they'd seen his son flash countless times over the years. "I do what the Lord tells me."  
  
"I won't let you!"  
  
Lucius's eyes flashed to something Harry couldn't see behind him. He smiled evilly. "Yes, you will."  
  
Harry didn't know what hit him. He'd been focusing too much on Voldemort and Lucius. He'd forgotten entirely about Wormtail. The man had snuck up behind him, closing his powerful light-hand over Harry's lower right arm. Wormtail's fist clenched, shattering the bone. Harry screamed in pain. He was still alert enough to try and keep a hold on Hermione with his left hand, but Wormtail had shoved her out from behind him, right into the line of Lucius's fire.  
  
Harry collapsed. His scar was burning hotter than ever now, combining with the pain in his arm and the pain in his heart that was worse than the other two. Hermione was going to die and there was nothing he could do.  
  
Everything happened so quickly that it took a moment for the facts to register to Hermione. She stared at Lucius who stood not ten feet in front of her, his wand held out and ready to fire. Harry lay crying and yelling on the floor, too far away to help her. People say life flashes before your eyes before death, but Hermione's didn't. All she saw was the tip of Lucius's wand and Harry. All she felt was an odd sense of denial and confusion. All fear seemed to have vanished, leaving behind only and empty sort of feeling.  
  
Draco watched the scene from off to the side, his eyes wide. Clarity for all his conflicts had finally set in. It was as though he'd been looking through glasses he didn't need and someone had pulled them off. Hermione stood facing his father once more-the final time. It was the moment he'd known, deep down, that all his blunders as a Death Eater, a Hogwarts student, and just generally a person would lead to. It was Hermione who stood, about to take the punishment that should belong to him. This was no longer about spiting his father-somehow, unwittingly, Hermione had given him some part of her, some part that made him realize the difference between the two of them, a difference he didn't like. She'd made him realize that his beliefs over the past years were all wrong. He'd fought against accepting that knowledge continually and finally he was ready to realize it. There was something he could do, something he wanted to do to help her. It would be delaying it, not stopping it, but it would be doing the only thing that was right. He'd done enough things that were wrong. The line between good and evil was distinct again for Draco, only he now found himself toeing the line, longing to be on the other side. There was only one way to accomplish that. He jumped.  
  
The terrible words roared through the air and the green light shot from Lucius's wand as Hermione stood watching it, not having time to comprehend.  
  
A moment later, the green light cleared, allowing the occupants of the cavern to see the sight before them. Hermione still stood facing Lucius, swaying on her feet, in a state of utter shock. Harry had stopped yelling and was now crying hard, obviously expecting to see Hermione's body lying on the floor. There was a body, but it wasn't hers.  
  
Draco lay still and silent at Hermione's feet. His eyes were closed and his muscles relaxed, his head lolling to one side. He was dead. Dimly, in the back of Hermione's conflicted mind, she realized what had happened. He'd jumped in front of her, taking the Killing Curse himself. He'd sacrificed himself to save her.  
  
There was a stillness in the room as complete as Draco's. No one moved. Everyone appeared frozen by what they saw. Just as quickly as the silence had fallen, Lucius broke it.  
  
His eyes turned wild with rage and he was focusing once more on Hermione. He kicked his son's body aside with his foot, showing no emotion. Hermione stepped back, but he grabbed her arms before she could get far enough away. He shook her hard and she was suddenly quite well aware of her situation. She began to struggle violently against Lucius, but no matter how hard she tried, Lucius was stronger.  
  
"You'll die for everything you've done!" howled Lucius.  
  
"What have I done?" snarled Hermione back, surprised at her own courage. "You were going to kill him anyway! You can still kill me, as you obviously plan to. I simply saved your son a painful death. I don't see what I've done. Why don't you explain it to me?"  
  
Harry-who was watching this whole exchange with relief surging through him that Hermione was alive-shook his head, clutching his arm in pain. No, Hermione, no, don't spite him!  
  
Lucius shoved Hermione to the ground and pulled out his wand. Harry struggled to his feet. He would do what had to be done to help her. He might be able to reach her in time . . . he felt in his robes for the wand he'd been waiting for the opportunity to use. To his horror, it was not there. Wormtail must have taken it when he'd broken Harry's arm. If Wormtail's light hand had done that to his bones, he didn't have high hopes that his wand was in any good shape.  
  
Wormtail spotted Harry and grabbed him, shoving him backwards. Harry struggled, but could do nothing except watch.  
  
"Kill her, Lucius!" screamed Voldemort in fury. "She's caused us her fair share of problems-kill her already!"  
  
Lucius had sunk into too deep an anger. He screamed not "Avada Kedavera", but instead, "Crucio!"  
  
Harry was horrified. Lucius didn't take his wand off of Hermione for a long time, nearly a whole minute. Never had Harry experienced the Curse at such an intensity. When Lucius did remove the wand, it was only because he'd stumbled. During this lapse, Hermione had curled into a trembling ball at his feet. Harry knew she was already extremely weak emotionally and now physically as well. She wouldn't be able to survive another dosage of the Cruciatus Curse in that magnitude. At best she would be as Neville's parents were, if she wasn't already; at worst she would be dead.  
  
He'd heard in the past about adrenaline causing people to do extraordinary things, but had never experienced it before, not in all the terrible encounters he'd been in. It gave him the strength to ignore the near unbearable pain in his scar and arm and break free from Wormtail and grab his wand that had been protruding out of his pocket. He knew his freedom would be short-lived. Lucius was already leveling the wand at Hermione again.  
  
"Expelliarmus!" yelled Harry. Lucius's wand flew from his hand and into Harry's. Harry threw it as far into the black shadows beyond as he could.  
  
Hermione didn't move and Harry felt fear for her and anger for Voldemort rise within him. He turned to Voldemort and yelled, "Avada Kedavera!" Nothing happened. Harry hadn't expected it to. The Killing Curse was extremely hard to work and he'd never so much as had one lesson in its art form.  
  
Wormtail jumped at him and Harry dodged. Lucius was now coming for him as well. He ducked under the senior Malfoy's arms and ran to Hermione. He no longer cared that he would be caught. There was nothing he could do about it, he'd realized. However, he wouldn't accept that there was no way for Hermione to get out. He knelt beside her and tried to shake her, talking to her quietly. She didn't move. He had a horrible thought that she was already dead and panicked for a moment, but he could see the uneven rise and fall of the side of her rib cage. She was shaking and her breathing was extremely shallow, muffled sobs making her breathing pattern even more erratic.  
  
Lucius and Wormtail had almost reached him when Voldemort shouted, "STOP!" Everyone stopped except for Harry who was beyond caring any longer. "You are fools, Lucius, Wormtail! Lucius, I've given you countless opportunities to finish your son and the Mudblood off and now I hand them to you and you cannot complete it successfully! You cannot set aside your anger long enough to do what is necessary! You could have just killed the girl and all this would have been prevented!" Voldemort was screaming, his eyes wild and livid. It was enough to scare the bravest of men. "You are excused!"  
  
"W-what?" demanded Lucius. "I'm what?"  
  
"You are excused, Lucius. Leave. I will finish here. You as well, Wormtail. And if either of you ever thinks of disobeying a direct order again, you will find yourselves in the position of these children! GET OUT!"  
  
Lucius and Wormtail hurried past Harry and Hermione and soon had disappeared from sight. Voldemort turned coldly to the two. Harry had succeeded in getting Hermione to sit up but she was in a terrible state, shaking and staring blankly. He'd never seen her look so broken and it terrified him.  
  
"Now you see, Harry," said Voldemort in a much quieter voice, making Harry turn his face hatefully to him. "You see what a weakness love is. It does nothing but destroy. Draco was killed because he chose love over power and strength. The Mudblood received the torture because she refused to accept our side's beliefs. You have always shared the same beliefs as her. Now I offer one last demonstration of this. I have tired of this game of cat and mouse. The mice are about to die. I will make it quick."  
  
Harry stared numbly. It was the end. He found himself welcoming it. An escape from the pain that racked his body, the terror, the torture. He just wanted it all to end. He lowered his eyes and they fell on Draco. He truly had been good in the end. He'd done something Harry had not thought him capable of-sacrificed himself for Hermione.  
  
In that instant, something clicked within his brain, something he'd not had the opportunity to recognize before. It was a mark of love to sacrifice yourself for someone else and love was something Voldemort couldn't handle. It was why Harry had survived as a baby, why Voldemort had been gone for years. His protection was gone now because his blood was in Voldemort's veins. But now Hermione had that protection. It was their last and only hope. The problem was getting Hermione to cooperate.  
  
"Hermione," hissed Harry quiet enough so Voldemort could not hear, "you've got the protection I had! Draco sacrificed himself for you as my mother did for me. It can save us."  
  
She looked at him, but no comprehension of his words shone through her blank expression. She sat where she was, not bothering to move. Harry thought she'd heard him, but she was barely conscious. He could do nothing without her. Harry turned his face back to Voldemort, wondering if the man would make the same mistake he had so many years ago with Harry.  
  
It appeared he was. "Avada Kedavera!" shouted Voldemort, looking quite happy a jet of beam lanced toward the two. Harry didn't know whether to do what Draco had done and jump in front of Hermione or allow it to hit her. What if he was wrong? What if she didn't have the protection? Wouldn't they die anyway?  
  
Harry sat frozen, his mouth open, eyes wide, as the green light hit Hermione in the stomach. She screamed. No, no, no, begged Harry silently. The green light did not reflect on Voldemort as it had done when Voldemort had tried to kill Harry as a baby. However, it did not fade away, either. A thick green beam of light was extending from Hermione's stomach to Voldemort's wand. Hermione's face was contorted in pain. Voldemort looked horrified and confused. The green beam was gradually extending past Voldemort's wand, attaching itself to Voldemort's chest. He yelled out in pain as it touched him. Harry scrambled to his feet, staring in confusion.  
  
The green light stayed strong as ever. Voldemort was hacking viciously with his hands at the beam of light. His hands did nothing more than go through it. He tried to curse it with his wand, but that, too, failed. It was no more than light-yet it was something much more complex, something capable of holding both there. Hermione was struggling but not as fiercely. She was crying and Harry could tell both were in pain, though it appeared to him that Hermione was in more.  
  
Harry ran to Hermione. Her head was lolling over onto her shoulder now and it looked as though she were about to pass out. He put his hand on her shoulder. She looked over at him through half-closed eyelids.  
  
"Harry," she whispered distantly, "what's happening . . . ?"  
  
Harry shook his head, his mouth still open as he looked from her to the beam of light. "I don't know," he said, choking on the words.  
  
"It hurts . . ." she moaned, her voice so low now Harry had to strain to hear her.  
  
"I know," said Harry, crying now. He had no idea what was happening, but Hermione looked as though she were weakening horribly. Even Voldemort was weakening. He was beginning to think both were on the verge of death. His sobs broke his words apart. "Hang on, okay? Voldemort's weakening. I don't know what's happening, but it's going to be okay. He's going to die and your going to live and we'll get out of here . . ." His voice faltered entirely. He doubted Hermione could hear him. His words were more for his own benefit than hers.  
  
He looked once more to the light. The green intensity of it was harsher now. The green had deepened from a lime to an emerald and it was growing brighter. He put his hand cautiously toward the beam. It felt hot.  
  
He looked from Voldemort to Hermione. Voldemort was now limp in a way similar to Hermione. He'd stopped struggling entirely. Harry noticed for the first time that the beam had risen, bringing both Hermione and Voldemort with it. Their feet were now hovering a few inches above the ground.  
  
Harry looked back to Hermione. Her eyes were closed now and the rise and fall of her chest was so shallow he could hardly see it. She was now hovering at a height level to his. He had no doubt in his mind now-she was dying. He hugged her with his good arm. "Hermione," he sobbed to her, "wake up, please! I can't lose you . . ."  
  
To his great surprise, he heard her whisper, "I can't . . ."  
  
He pulled back, seeing her eyes were open just slightly again. "Hermione," he breathed in relief. "I know it's hard to stay awake, but you have to!"  
  
"Why?"  
  
"Just do it!" ordered Harry. "Stay awake."  
  
He wasn't sure what help this would be, but he felt that the more awake she was, the longer she would stay alive. She nodded just a little, her head falling on to his shoulder. She cried out in pain and Harry could feel the heat intensity of the light beam had risen to such a level that his skin felt ready to scorch.  
  
"Try to cut the light, Harry," she begged, her voice so full of pain he could hardly bear to listen. "Please, just find a way, I can't take this any longer . . ."  
  
Harry gritted his teeth and looked at the light. He didn't have a wand so he could do nothing with magic, even if he knew what. He decided to do what Voldemort had done. It was the only thing he could think of. He raised his hand in a karate-like pose, then brought it down hard on the light. His hand passed right through it. As it did so, he could feel the heat of it. He pulled his hand back, grasping it in pain.  
  
For a moment, all was still and silent. The moment passed quickly and suddenly, the light changed shape. A third branch of light near where the light connected to Hermione's body appeared. It was moving fast toward Harry. Harry had no time to dodge, to even realize what was happening before the light hit his chest, levitating him into the air with Voldemort and Hermione.  
  
The pain came suddenly and unstoppably. He yelled out as it reached him. He quickly realized what Hermione had been suffering. He struggled, but quickly stopped, understanding the futility of the action. The light seemed to be sucking the very breath out of him. Each breath was a painful struggle. He hung half-limp in the air, his feet dangling just inches above the ground, yet so far away. Hermione cried out suddenly and he wondered if he was hurting her somehow.  
  
"Hold on," he gasped through his teeth. "Hermione, listen to me."  
  
Hermione, however, was too far-gone now. Her head was limp again and her eyes began to close. Harry begged her to listen to him, but the effort of speaking was taking more and more out of him. He was weakening, just as Hermione and Voldemort were.  
  
Harry opened his mouth to try one last time to keep her awake, but before he had a chance to say anything, the green light exploded. He was thrown back several feet, landing hard on the stone floor. Even with his eyes closed, the brilliant, searing green light dug its way under his eyelids. The heat became unbearable around him. It felt as though his very skin was burning. His scar was burning so badly he felt as though his skull had cracked. Then, just as quickly as it had come, the light vanished, leaving only darkness beneath his eyelids once more and only silence and the cool feeling of stone around him. His scar was no longer aching, not even the dull pounding that had accompanied him restlessly since leaving Dumbledore's sanctuary. The only pain he felt was in his arm, which was roaring with agony.  
  
It was a few moments before he dared open his eyes. After the brightness of the light before, it took a moment for his eyes to readjust to the darkness. He was almost scared to move, to dare to look at anything besides the darkness above him. All he could hear was the crackling of the torches, which dimly illuminated the blackness of the cavern.  
  
He used his good arm to prop himself up and squinted through the gloominess. He could see Hermione lying motionless on the far side of Voldemort's throne. Immediately, his fear for her well being pushed him to his feet. Voldemort was nowhere to be seen and this sent shivers of fright and uncertainty down Harry's spine. He was well aware of these as he ran across the cavern to where Hermione lay sprawled on the ground.  
  
He knelt beside her, praying silently that she was alive. He pressed two of his fingers against her neck, probing desperately for some sign of a pulse. He was relieved when he finally felt a slight beating under his fingers. He sighed, closing his eyes and tilting his head toward the faraway heavens, murmuring a thanks. Harry picked Hermione up gently, cradling her head in his arm and searching her for injuries. She was dirty and bruised, but besides that appeared to be okay.  
  
She moaned a little in his grasp and her eyes flickered open. She began to attempt to sit up and Harry helped her, not letting go of her for fear she would collapse again from weakness. She squinted at him.  
  
He smiled a slightly forced but genuine grin. "You're okay," he whispered. "Just rest."  
  
Hermione had never felt so weak in her life. Her memories were distant and scrambled. She looked around, the very action of keeping her eyes open a struggle. She opened her mouth to ask what had happened, where Voldemort was, but she found herself too weak to utter a sound. She looked to Harry and mouthed the word, "Voldemort."  
  
He shook his head. "I don't know," he whispered. "I don't see him. He's just disappeared. But my scar isn't hurting for the first time since all this started. I think . . . I think he's gone, Hermione. I don't know how or why, but I think he's really gone for good this time."  
  
The thought of her Dark Mark occurred to her. She'd read about Death Eaters' Dark Marks fading to just dull lines like scars when Voldemort wasn't in power. She fumbled with her own sleeve, wondering if her arm could hold the answer to the question. Dimly, she remembered feeling a fierce burning in the Dark Mark before passing out. Harry helped her with her sleeve, seeing she was having difficulty.  
  
She sucked in her breath sharply when it was rolled up. Nothing was there. No black, red, or scarred serpent seared into her flesh. Nothing but skin. She ran her hand over it cautiously. It had disappeared.  
  
"What the . . . ?" questioned Harry vaguely.  
  
Her eyes fell upon Draco, who was lying only five feet or so away. She struggled against Harry, who let her go, though kept a guiding hand on her shoulder. She crawled over to Draco's body and stared at him for a moment.  
  
"He's dead, Hermione," said Harry quietly. He was surprised to feel a small pang of regret at those words. Draco had been his enemy and a traitor to the Light side, but he had saved both their lives. In the end, when they'd both been standing waiting Lucius's arrival, they'd been not enemies but partners. He wished that somehow Draco was still alive.  
  
Hermione showed no comprehension of his words. She reached over and rolled up Draco's left sleeve. The Dark Mark was nowhere to be seen.  
  
These actions had taken the last strength Hermione had. The world spun around her. She had one last coherent thought before sinking into the blessed unconsciousness she'd been longing for:  
  
She'd told Draco she would not forgive him for what he'd done as long as she had the Dark Mark on her arm. She no longer did, thanks to him. He'd honestly changed in the end. She'd been right. She hadn't been able to truly forgive him before. Unfortunately, now when it was too late, she could.  
  
A/n: And there it is, my big ending! Not the end of the story, mind you, but the end of the action. How did you feel about my killing Draco? I felt it was necessary, really. There was just no other way anyone could trust him and this proves he was really good in the end. Even if you hated it, tell me in a review! 


	18. Destiny's Triumph part one

A/n: Thank you all for your support of the way I ended it. I'm glad I managed to move you all so much! This is the first half of the conclusion chapter. I ended it oddly, but that's because I had to fit the dumb word limit! :-( Anyway, I think I leave you with more questions than answers in this chapter-most of which will not be delved into until the sequel, which is currently in the works-but in the next chapter things are resolved . . . pretty much. ;-)  
  
"In the still and the silent dawn, Another day is born." --Sarah McLachlan  
  
Chapter Sixteen: Destiny's Triumph  
  
Harry caught Hermione as she collapsed and lay her down gently on the floor, his arm aching too much to hold her any longer. He felt like passing out himself, but knew that would be a bad idea. They needed to get out of there as fast as they could, but he knew neither of them was in any shape for travel. Hermione was too weak to stand and Harry could not support her as well as himself. They had no choice but to wait.  
  
He waited in the grim silence for almost half an hour. Harry felt himself beginning to drift off. Just as he was willingly laying himself down on the floor and closing his eyes, a distant, familiar clatter rang from the darkness beyond the path leading up to where he was lying. He pushed himself up, putting a hand on Hermione, his heart beating in his chest as he watched for what would come next.  
  
Out of the blackness stepped two figures. One was tall, but hunched over and limping. This figure was supported by a second, shorter figure. The two made slow progress closer. Harry did not have his wand. He felt for Hermione's and located it, gripping it tightly and pointing it at the two figures. Hermione did not stir.  
  
"Harry!" yelled one of the figures.  
  
Harry dropped the wand to his side in surprise. He dared not believe his ears until the two came close enough to be touched by the firelight. Sure enough, the person who'd called out was a very dirty, bloodied Ron. The second person came as even more of a surprise. Sirius was limping along at Ron's side. The two quickened their pace toward where Harry and Hermione sat by Draco's body.  
  
"Ron?" gasped Harry, his voice hoarse. "Sirius?"  
  
Ron reached him and knelt down. He paled and his face took on a look of terror as he saw Hermione. Harry, reading his mind, shook his head. "No, she's not dead. Nearly, though. We need to get her out of here. She's so weak . . . I'm not sure how much longer she can survive in this state."  
  
"We'll get her out," said Sirius, putting his hand on Harry's shoulder and peering down in concern at his godson. "Are you all right? What's wrong with your arm? Where's You-Know-Who? What happened here?"  
  
Harry just shook his head, the questions his godfather was asking seeming to him to be an impossibly heavy load to bear. "What happened to you?" he asked instead, surveying his godfather. Sirius had bruises and cuts smeared with dried blood on several parts of his face and his leg was held out stiff to one side.  
  
He grimaced. "Don't you worry about me," said Sirius sternly. "It's quite apparent who's in the worse state here. Hang on, Harry, okay? We're going to get you out of here."  
  
"How'd you get in here? I thought only Parseltongues-"  
  
Sirius gave him a dry smile. "We got here with a little help from your Elf friend Dobby and found that You-Know-Who had been kind enough to leave the doors open." Harry remembered Voldemort telling Wormtail he'd leave both doors ajar so that Wormtail and Lucius could return.  
  
"Harry . . ."  
  
Harry turned to see Ron looking at Draco's body uncertainly. Ron looked to him, his eyebrows raised. Harry nodded, answering the unspoken question. "Yes, Ron," said Harry weakly. "He's dead."  
  
Ron nodded back, looking slightly startled at the news, but no more. "However it happened, I suppose he deserved it."  
  
Harry shook his head slowly. "No. No, he didn't." Ron looked at Harry, but Harry looked away again, not up to answering any more questions.  
  
Sirius, who'd been listening to this whole conversation silently, held out a hand to Harry. "Come on, Harry," he said quietly. "It's time we got out of here."  
  
Harry allowed Sirius to pull him up by his good arm, wincing at the pain in his other arm. He looked down at Hermione. He wasn't up to carrying her and it didn't appear Sirius was either, as he looked quite exhausted from the exertion of pulling Harry up.  
  
"We'll float her along," said Sirius, following Harry's line of sight. He looked over at Draco. "Him, too. I'll help Hermione and Ron can get Draco."  
  
Harry looked over to the spot where he'd fallen across the cavern. He couldn't see his wand. He told his godfather that he'd lost it and Sirius, who'd appeared lost in thought said, "Don't worry, we'll come back for it. Not now, though. Give me the wand you're holding then. The Death Eaters took mine."  
  
Harry was too exhausted to put up any argument. He handed over Hermione's wand and watched as Sirius levitated her limp body into the air, just as they'd levitated Snape in their third year. Ron performed the same spell on Draco, though he appeared to have more difficulty keeping the boy levitated. Every now and then he would drop a few inches then soar back up again. Hermione maintained a more steady height.  
  
They made slow and silent progress, crossing back through the cavern and twisting tunnels of the Chamber of Secrets. Sirius walked on his own, limping the whole way. Ron had to walk carefully so as not to drop Draco entirely. Harry trudged along, his eyes downcast, he mind completely numb. He was in a state of shock, just as he had been at the end of last year. He felt oddly hollow and empty, as though something were missing.  
  
They reached the pipe, which they had used to get down, and a question arose in Harry's mind. "How are we going to get up that?" he asked. Last time they'd had Fawkes to pull them back up. They didn't have any phoenix to help them now.  
  
"I have been thinking of a solution to that problem," said Sirius. "We can't climb back up. The only one of us up to taking on such an obstacle is Ron and even though he's capable, I believe it to be far too steep and slippery to make it all the way to the top."  
  
"So where does that leave us?" asked Ron.  
  
"With one option. Do you think that you are up to using the Levitation Spell on all of us and levitating us up the pipe?"  
  
Ron looked startled by the question. "Er, yeah, I guess so," replied Ron uncertainly. "It would be hard, but I could. I wouldn't be able to see which direction the pipe goes, so there would be a lot of collisions. But how would I get back up? You couldn't put the spell on me from the top."  
  
"No, I couldn't," agreed Sirius. "You would have to wait down here until we get help and send someone back for you. I can do it if you don't think you're up to it."  
  
"You probably should, unless there's some reason I need to. You can do the spell better than me and to be honest, waiting down here terrifies me."  
  
Sirius nodded. "All right then." He looked to Harry. "All I'm going to do is levitate each of you up the pipe. I'll put another spell on you so you can speak loudly and tell me whether to go right or left and when to stop the spell. Once all of you are up there, you should see Dobby and Elnor waiting. They can lead you to Dumbledore's office. I'm certain he'll be here by now."  
  
"But how would he know to be?" asked Harry.  
  
"He knows a lot more than an average man. He'll be there, or he'll be here within a little while of when you get there. The password is "Droobles". When Ron and I left the House-Elf tunnels, we noticed most of the Death Eaters were gone or were running. I took a look out of a window. Even the Dementors are leaving. They all know that something's happened to the Dark Lord and they're too scared to stick around. The Ministry will be getting here soon. You'll be safe. You'll have to leave Draco in the bathroom for now unless you feel up to using the Levitation spell on him."  
  
Harry shook his head; a dull headache pounding from all the information Sirius was giving him. He noted distantly just how different the headache felt from the pain in his scar. "He's gone," said Harry quietly. "Voldemort's gone." It was all he could manage to say.  
  
Sirius studied his godson's face and nodded a little bit. "I hope he is," he said. "It certainly looks as though he's at least disappeared as he did last time."  
  
"No," whispered Harry. "He's gone for good." He knew he was right. Hermione's Dark Mark and his scar were proof enough of this for him.  
  
"I hope so," repeated Sirius, watching Harry carefully. "Do you understand what I told you, Harry?"  
  
Harry nodded.  
  
Sirius turned to Ron. "You're the most alert, so I'm going to lift you up first. Lay Draco down and stand in front of the pipe." Once Ron had done what Sirius had told him to, setting Draco down next to where Sirius had carefully placed Hermione, Sirius aimed his wand at Ron. "Sonorus! Don't shout down to me, Ron, just talk normally as this spell will make it seem like you're shouting. Now, I want you to pick up Hermione and I will levitate you both up. As she cannot talk to me, it would be too dangerous to levitate her on my own. I might hurt her." He waited for Ron to pick up Hermione and get a firm grip on her before saying, "Mobiliocorpus!"  
  
Ron and Hermione began to lift from the ground. Sirius guided them into the beginning of the pipe and not too long later, Harry could hear Ron's magnified voice calling down, "Left! Right! Up!" whenever he reached a turn. It took no more than two minutes before they heard Ron's distant voice yell, "Stop!"  
  
Sirius removed the spell and Ron called back that they were safely at the top. Sirius turned to Harry. "It's your turn now. I'll do the same thing I did to Ron, only you won't have to carry anyone. I've changed my mind about Draco-I'll keep him down here with me until someone comes to get me. It will be easier that way, as I don't think you could carry him with one arm. Just call to me directions as I levitate you like Ron did. When you get to the top, tell Ron to say "Quietus" to take the spell off of both of your voices. Okay?"  
  
Harry nodded and went to stand in front of the pipe. It was a relief when Sirius put the Levitation spell on him. His legs had felt ready to collapse. While floating in the air was a slightly unsettling sensation, he felt slightly more relaxed. Going up the pipe was easier than he'd expected and he was soon calling down to Sirius to remove the spell. His legs did collapse as the spell came off and he fell three feet to the floor. He pushed himself up and told Ron what Sirius had told him. Ron took the vocal spell off of them both.  
  
Dobby was there, though Elnor was absent. Dobby wrapped his tiny arms around one of Harry's legs and began to sob loudly. "Oh, Harry Potter, sir, I knew you would do it! You is defeating the Dark Lord and is saving us all! You is surviving!"  
  
"Let go, Dobby," said Harry wearily. The Elf was almost pulling his leg out from under him. Dobby pulled away, giving Harry a teary smile.  
  
"Dobby, we need to go to Dumbledore's office, okay?" said Ron, apparently struggling under the dead weight of Hermione. "Not by Elf tunnels, either. Can you show us the most direct human path to Dumbledore's office? And the one with the least staircases?"  
  
Dobby nodded, looking proud. "Yes, I is showing you the way. But where is Harry Potter's godfather, sir? And what is happening to miss?"  
  
"Not now, Dobby," said Ron, casting a concerned look at Harry. "We need to go to Dumbledore's office now." Dobby agreed.  
  
Dobby led them through the corridors quickly. Sirius had been right-it seemed that all the Death Eaters, feeling their master's downfall, had fled the castle. They ran into no one as they crossed the second floor and made their way to Dumbledore's office. Harry gave the password to the gargoyle and the two weary boys climbed the staircase to the wooden door leading into the office.  
  
The door was pulled open before they reached it. It appeared that Sirius had been right twice, for Dumbledore stood staring down at them. There was a moment in which time seemed to pause, when the boys' footsteps faltered and they stood still and when Dumbledore did nothing more than stand there, surveying them from above. This lasted for no more than an instant.  
  
"Hurry, now, come up!" said Dumbledore, snapping them all from the paused state. Harry and Ron climbed the last few steps and nearly fell into Dumbledore's office. Dumbledore welcomed Dobby in behind them.  
  
Dumbledore gently took Hermione from Ron, allowing the boys to fall into two chairs. Dumbledore, having no place to set Hermione down, held onto her as he looked at them. "Are you both all right?" was what he first asked.  
  
Ron looked to Harry who was staring at the desk showing no signs of having heard Dumbledore. "We will be," answered Ron. "It's Hermione we're worried about. I don't know what happened down there . . . only Harry does . . ." He sent another glance at his friend who continued to say nothing. "All I know is she's hurt bad," Ron finished.  
  
Dumbledore nodded, looking down at Hermione. "Madam Pomfrey is still here. The Death Eaters kept her in case they needed someone with medical training. More Ministry wizards will be arriving in just a little while, I'm sure. The Death Eaters have all fled. I arrived myself only ten minutes ago."  
  
"Sirius is down there, in the Chamber," said Ron, an uncontrollable note of panic in his voice.  
  
"I will send Remus to retrieve him."  
  
"And Malfoy-"  
  
Dumbledore held up a hand. "He is dead. I know. Calm yourself, Mr. Weasley. Everything will be all right now. I will be needing to speak with you all, but not now. Now is the time where you rest. I need to take Miss Granger down to the Hospital Wing. Can you and Harry manage to walk on your own?"  
  
Ron nodded and stood. He looked down at Harry and saw his eyes closed, his breathing even. He had passed out.  
  
*******************  
  
Sirius stood, determined and resolute in front of Albus Dumbledore. Sirius's clothes were wet with filth and grime and his face was a sickening combination of green and black. His hair stood out all over the place. Dumbledore stood before him, looking the exact opposite-tall and clean with his hair as long and neat as ever. Dumbledore and Lupin had used a spell to bring Sirius up from the depths of the Chamber of Secrets only about fifteen minutes before. He'd insisted upon checking on Harry, then both men had returned to Dumbledore's office in which they now stood.  
  
"Well?" asked Sirius, breaking the heavy silence. "What do you think?"  
  
Dumbledore hesitated a moment without answering. Finally, he sighed wearily. "I'm sorry to say my suspicions were correct," he said. "They are the Chosen Two. I have no doubt now that I've gotten a complete understanding of all that has occurred. All four were important to this particular battle, but of the four, this nightmare will continue only for those two."  
  
Sirius closed his eyes, something between anger and pain written on his face. "There has to be something we can do. Look at what it's done to them already! They're too young, Dumbledore-they're just children! They don't deserve such a burden. It's my job to protect him. I promised his parents I'd take care of him. I've done a terrible job the first thirteen years of his life. Now I have a chance to make up for my mistakes, to fulfill my promise and you're telling me that some pre-destined force won't let me. I feel like I'm letting James and Lily down. Even more, I feel like I'm letting him down."  
  
"Believe me, if there was something to do, I'd do it. Unfortunately, there is nothing to be done. They've been destined for these roles since the moment they were born. There is no way for us to stop it-we can only do our best to ensure they are prepared for what will come."  
  
"What is coming, Dumbledore?" asked Sirius. "What are we preparing them for?"  
  
"Alas, that is a mystery only time holds the solution to."  
  
Sirius sighed, running his fingers through his matted hair. "I thought you once said Lily and James were the Chosen Two. You said that a year or so before they died. It made sense-they did seem the type."  
  
"At one point, I thought they were. They did indeed have all the qualities we'd have expected." Dumbledore smiled somewhat wryly. "That was before I met their son and Miss Granger."  
  
"So you might be wrong this time?" ventured Sirius hopefully.  
  
Dumbledore shook his head, his smile vanishing. "I have no uncertainty in their case. They are the Chosen Two."  
  
"And what happens if they can't take it?" demanded Sirius, changing tactic. "I think Harry will be okay, in time. But I have no idea where Hermione is concerned. She's been through far worse that he has. What happens if she can't recover? Or-more likely-if she just refuses to accept anything else like this that comes her way? There are limits to what a person can take. I don't think I'm wrong in saying she's reached hers. Will this all just go away? Because we can't have one without the other."  
  
Dumbledore looked at Sirius sternly as though he were a troublesome child. "This will not just go away, Sirius. You know that. Trust me when I say that if I had any power over this situation, I would use it to my full advantage. As you have stated, Miss Granger has indeed been put through hell and she doesn't deserve to have to deal with this as well. Nor does Harry. It is my deepest regret that there is no way in which I can change it. We will see how they seem next term. We will judge when they need to be told. And until they find out, we will watch and wait, helping where we can."  
  
"Wait? That's all we can do?"  
  
"A course of events has been set into motion that no one can hope to stop or alter. A time will come when they will know of all this, when they will learn of why they among their peers were the ones chosen and when they will solve the mysteries they must. That time is not now. And yes, Sirius- until that time comes, all we can do is wait."  
  
**************  
  
Harry felt himself rising up from his unconscious state. Sunlight was making its way under his eyelids and he shifted a little under the covers that had been placed atop him. He opened his eyes to a squint, blinking them rapidly against the harsh sun. He sat up. He was sore in many places but other than that he felt fine. His previously broken arm was set in a sling but all that remained of the pain that had been so fierce before was a barely noticeable ache. His scar was dead to any feeling.  
  
He took his arm from the sling and fumbled on the table next to the bed to find his glasses. He slipped them on and looked around. He was laying in the hospital wing, a place that had become all too familiar to him over the past five years. He realized he'd spent at least one day there per year ever since he'd come to Hogwarts. He looked over at the bed to his right and saw it to be empty. He looked over to his left and saw Hermione. She was lying flat on her back, showing no signs of being conscious. He pushed the covers off of him and discarded the sling all together. He stood and walked over to Hermione's bed. He was slightly unsteady on his feet and his stomach had a queasy feeling to it, but he made it.  
  
He sat down on Hermione's bed and watched her. Her breathing was a lot more even than it had been the last time he'd seen her and the cuts that she'd had on her face had been mended. Her bruises were still fading, but she looked much better.  
  
"Mr. Potter-back in bed!"  
  
Harry's head snapped around and he saw Madam Pomfrey striding over to him, a cup in her left hand. She looked stern and reprimanding as always, but Harry could see a faint glimmer of relief in her eyes.  
  
She was standing right beside him before he stood and made his way back to his own bed. He sat down, but Madam Pomfrey didn't stop. "Mr. Potter, I want you lying down in that bed! And put your sling back on. Your bone wasn't just broken, but completely shattered into at least ten pieces! You are to wear that sling until I say otherwise!"  
  
Harry shrugged back into his sling, not bothering to argue that his arm felt better than the rest of him. "How long have I been here?" he asked, his voice hoarse, as he lay back down.  
  
Madam Pomfrey handed him the cup she had been carrying that was full of water and instructed him to drink it. The water was lukewarm, but the liquid eased the dry feeling in his throat and he drank the large glass happily in two gulps. Once he'd set the glass back down, she continued. "You've been here for about thirty-six hours," she answered in a calmer tone.  
  
He looked over at Hermione. "What about Hermione?" he asked. "Is she okay?"  
  
Madam Pomfrey nodded. "Yes, she will be. She'll have a much longer recovery period than you, mind you. She was nearly dead when Dumbledore brought her in, poor girl. She's stable now, but she's still extremely weak. She's not yet awakened."  
  
"And Ron? And Si-" Harry barely managed to refrain from saying his godfather's name. He wasn't sure what had gone on since he'd passed out two days ago and he didn't want to risk it.  
  
"Mr. Weasley is absolutely fine. I managed to keep him here for about five hours before Dumbledore permitted him to leave." She scowled a little at that. Dumbledore had always had the tendency to allow people to leave the hospital wing before Madam Pomfrey deemed them ready to.  
  
"What's happened since I was brought here?" asked Harry. "With the Death Eaters and Voldemort and-"  
  
She winced at Voldemort's name and cut him off abruptly. "Now you're not to be worrying about that yet! That terrible man-if you can even call such a monster that-has done enough damage to you already. His memory will not be haunting you until you are more fit."  
  
"I'm fine," argued Harry. "His memory? Does that mean he's gone for sure?"  
  
For the first time Harry could remember, Madam Pomfrey actually smiled. "Yes. He is dead, Mr. Potter. He won't be returning again."  
  
Despite Harry's arguments, Madam Pomfrey had apparently been right about his condition, because this was the last thing he heard before falling into a deep sleep once more.  
  
**************  
  
The next time Harry awoke, he found Ron sitting in a chair by his bed. Ron was flipping absentmindedly through a Chudley Cannons biography when Harry stirred, sending him to his feet in a flash. He dropped the book to the floor without noticing.  
  
"Harry!" he cried in relief, smiling. "I've been waiting here ever since Madam Pomfrey said you woke up last time! How do you feel?"  
  
Harry yawned and sat up, fixing his glasses on his nose. He'd fallen asleep in them and they were now slightly crooked, but he didn't care. "I'm okay," he said. "Just tired. When did I last wake up?"  
  
"About seven hours ago," said Ron, sitting back down.  
  
"How's Hermione?"  
  
Ron's smile faltered. "The same-stable but unconscious. Whatever happened down there, Harry, it took everything she had out of her."  
  
"Yeah, it did," said Harry, remembering Hermione's distant, unresponsive state down in the Chamber. He forced the memories from his mind. He didn't want to think about them yet. He didn't elaborate to Ron. He knew Ron had the right to know and he intended to tell him, but not yet. Instead, he changed the subject. "What's going on? Madam Pomfrey won't tell me anything, you know her."  
  
Ron gave him a faint grin. "Yeah, she's been spying on me ever since I came in here. Every five minutes she'll look over, as though reading will disturb you or something. She was nearly frothing at the mouth when Fred and George snuck in to have a peek at you."  
  
"Fred and George are here?" asked Harry, perking up.  
  
Ron nodded earnestly. "My whole family is, even Bill and Charlie, though they and Dad have to keep coming and going for the Ministry, which is still in a state of pandemonium. Hermione's parents got here earlier today, after you fell asleep again. Dumbledore had to remove a whole bunch of anti-Muggle spells before they could enter the grounds, so they've been waiting in Hogsmeade until now. They've been in here with her ever since. I think they just left for a break about ten minutes ago. Hagrid's here, and all the teachers. Oh, yeah, and Sirius is-"  
  
"Shhh!" hissed Harry, looking around in case Madam Pomfrey had chosen then to peek over at them again.  
  
"I forgot, you don't know," said Ron. "Sirius has been cleared!"  
  
Harry's eyes widened. "Are you serious? When? How?"  
  
"They caught Wormtail," said Ron, grinning. "Forced him into confessing and now Sirius is a free man. He's okay, now. The Death Eaters beat him up pretty badly, but Madam Pomfrey's mended him. He's sleeping, too, just over there." Ron pointed at a bed with a sheet surrounding it some distance away.  
  
Harry felt a great happiness come over him in spite of the painful memories he was still holding at bay. After fifteen years, his godfather had been cleared. It was enough to bring a smile to his lips. "What else?" he asked curiously. Ron's information had only made him hungry for more. He would not go to sleep again until he knew everything.  
  
Ron bit his lower lip, thinking. "Cornelieus Fudge showed up again," he offered finally. "Gave the Ministry some made-up story about being under the Imperius Curse when he took off. No one believed him. He's been booted out of office and they've got a replacement Minister in for him until they get a permanent one. All the Dementors have been returned to Azkaban, which is filling with Death Eaters faster than you can believe. They're catching a lot people, but so far there's been no news about Lucius Malfoy. No one's seen him since You-Know-Who disappeared. The Daily Prophet ran another article about Hermione-made her out to be a hero, this time. Rightly so, I've never seen anyone as brave, with the exception of you. All the Hogwarts students have been sent home. It's closed for the rest of year, but will start up again next year at the same time. Fifth years are taking our O.W.L.s at the beginning of next year. The only students in Hogwarts now are us and the seventh years who have to take their N.E.W.T.s now since they won't be back next year." Ron's face took on a grim look. "Thirteen students are dead. There are some more in here, but not too many. One teacher was killed."  
  
"Who?"  
  
Ron shook his head. "We didn't know him. He was somebody who taught sixth- and seventh-year classes only."  
  
"What about the students? Did we know any of them?" asked Harry, praying the answer wasn't yes.  
  
"One Slytherin died-a first year who wasn't all that loyal to the Death Eaters like the rest of them. Five Hufflepuffs. One was that boy who's with us in Herbology-Ernie Macmillan. Four Ravenclaws. Didn't know any of them. Three Gryffindors. Dennis Creevy got in the way of a Death Eater's curse." Ron shook his head, his eyes a bit moist. "He could be annoying, but the poor kid didn't deserve that. Colin tried to attack the Death Eater that killed him. Alicia Spinnet saw him and pulled him out of the way, but she got hit with the curse instead." A real tear ran down Ron's cheek now. "The other was a seventh year boy we didn't know. Oliver Wood's here, too. He came when he heard about you and Alicia."  
  
Harry fell silent. Two Gryffindors he'd known, one of whom had been on his Quidditch team. He felt a pain in the pit of his stomach. All of this was Voldemort's doing. Despite the fact that Voldemort was gone now, he had a feeling that his memory would continue to cause people pain for many years to come.  
  
"What's going on with the Muggles?" asked Harry dully, his interest dying away at the horrible news Ron had just told him.  
  
Ron shook his head. "Too late, Harry. Speculations are going crazy. People have already guessed that it's witches and wizards. We've clammed up security again, but they have all these photos and noovies-"  
  
"What?" asked Harry in confusion.  
  
"Noovies, you know. Those things that Muggles play on square boxes with moving pictures and sound."  
  
It took Harry a moment to understand. He corrected his friend patiently. "Movies, Ron. Not noovies."  
  
Ron shrugged Harry's correction off. "Anyway, it's still the biggest news around for them. They won't forget about it and there's too many of them to quiet down. People are carrying guns now. They're ready to hurt us, Harry. They made up some video of a wizard killing a Muggle. They Ministry has reported that it was a made up video, but it has sent the Muggles into a panic."  
  
Harry was about to open his mouth and ask more about the forged video when the door to the Hospital Wing opened and three people entered, talking in hushed voices. Harry automatically recognized one to be Mrs. Weasley. He'd never seen the other two before. One was a tall man with thinning dark-blonde hair. He was dressed in casual Muggle clothes and had a grim expression on his face. He had his arm around a shorter woman's shoulder. The woman was crying and bore a strong resemblance to Hermione. Harry supposed these were her parents. The woman had bushy hair like her daughter's and similar facial features. She was also dressed in Muggle clothes.  
  
"Oh, no," moaned Ron under his breath. "Here comes Mum. She's been telling me to leave the Hospital Wing all day. Seems she's been talking to Madam Pomfrey and Pomfrey's apparently making me out to be some kind of hoodlum that's causing a ruckus and disrupting her work. The woman's having a mental breakdown, I swear. I think all the You-Know-Who business and Fred and George walking out to help us has totally screwed her up. She alternates between yelling and lecturing and hugging and kissing me. Half the time she seems thankful I'm alive, the other half she seems angry." He shook his head. "Parents. At least Dad sticks to one."  
  
"Are those Hermione's parents?" asked Harry, ignoring Ron's complaints.  
  
Ron nodded. "Yeah. They, at least, haven't been bothering me to leave. However, I've heard them talking about pulling Hermione out of Hogwarts. Don't reckon she'll be too pleased with that when she comes around."  
  
Molly Weasley spotted Harry in that instant. She stopped her conversation with the Grangers abruptly and walked quickly over to Harry. The Grangers trailed behind, stopping to check on their daughter first.  
  
Molly came over to the side of Harry's bed opposite the one Ron was on. She fixed her gaze on her son. "You haven't been pressuring him, I hope."  
  
Ron rolled his eyes. "No, Mum."  
  
"He hasn't been, Mrs. Weasley," Harry assured her.  
  
She smiled at him, tears in her eyes. "Oh, Harry, we've all been so worried. We've heard about everything with You-Know-Who . . . you've done it. You've defeated him. I can't believe it, but you did, and you lived to tell about it." She hugged him. Tears of happiness were streaming down her face now. Her eyes locked on Ron again, who seemed to have been praying that wouldn't happen. "And Ron!" She went around the bed and hugged him tightly, crying softly. "I know I've already said it, but I'm so happy you're all right. After Percy . . . oh, Ron."  
  
Ron looked at Harry over his mother's shoulder and mouthed, "I told you- she's gone mad!"  
  
Harry smiled again. In spite of all the horrible happenings still going on around them, things looked like they had the prospect of returning to normal, in time. Now all that was missing was Hermione.  
  
"Harry Potter?"  
  
Harry looked up and saw Mr. Granger standing over him. The man was tall, but not in an imposing kind of way. Mrs. Granger was sitting on the side of Hermione's bed, holding her daughter's hand and watching Harry as well. Harry began to shift a little under the couple's gaze.  
  
"Yes, that's me," he said.  
  
"I'm Daniel Granger. That's my wife Cecile. I understand you've got a lot to do with keeping our daughter alive," said Mr. Granger quietly. He held out his hand and Harry, having no other idea about what to do, shook it awkwardly. "I don't have many details, but . . . it sounds like Hermione's been through a terrible ordeal this year and that you've helped her. I can't thank you enough for that."  
  
Harry was unsure of what to say. Instead of replying to Mr. Granger's thanks, Harry tried to steer them to another subject, one he wasn't quite as uncomfortable discussing. "You don't know what's happened?" he asked. "I thought the Weasleys-"  
  
"They did," said Mrs. Granger. "They came to us through our fireplace one morning. Scared the life out of us, but we remembered them from when we took Hermione to Diagon Alley in her second year. We'd been worried about her because off all the things being said on the news. They took us back to their home, saying we were in danger. They couldn't tell us much more except that the evil wizard Hermione's told us about has come back and attacked Hogwarts. We've learned more since then. We know that she was forced into becoming a . . . a . . ."  
  
"Death Eater?" offered Harry, seeing Mr. Granger was having difficulty remembering.  
  
Mrs. Granger nodded, her eyes filling with tears again. "We know she's been hurt and that she was down there with you when you were fighting against this man."  
  
"Dumbledore seemed to think it would be easier if she told us," said Mr. Granger in a tone that said he deeply disagreed. He glanced back at her in concern. "He may be right, but I hate the waiting."  
  
"I didn't do anything except try to protect her," said Harry honestly. "There was nothing I could do. She destroyed him, somehow."  
  
"That will all be explained in time, Harry."  
  
The five turned to look at the doorway, where Dumbledore was now standing. He came in and stood at the foot of Harry's bed. "I know you are all desperate to know what has gone on. Parts of it I myself am unclear on, such as many parts of your daughter's story before I began my watch on her, Mr. Granger. She needs to tell you what I cannot. Besides that, she needs to speak of it, just as I made Harry speak of what went on at the end of fourth year. It's not easy, but it needs to be done. When Hermione awakens, we will all gather and things will be explained and understood. I know you all hate to hear this, but all we can do is wait."  
  
Madam Pomfrey came over then, seeming to notice them all for the first time. She stomped closer and Harry suddenly understood Ron's analogy of her to a rabid dog. "What is going on here?" she shrieked. "This is hospital wing, Headmaster, a place people come to get better! People can't recover when there's a convention going on in their room! Mr. Potter has just started to come around and he needs his rest. Miss Granger has not yet even awoken! Everyone except Miss Granger's parents, please leave now!"  
  
Ron shuffled past Harry's bed, giving him a resigned, "See you. Guess Mum'll be happy."  
  
"Terribly sorry, Poppy," said Dumbledore a small smile tugging at his lips, his eyes twinkling for the first time Harry had seen in many days.  
  
The hospital wing had soon returned to its quiet state. Harry lay back down in bed, watching Hermione and her parents and feeling Mr. Granger's impatience. There were so many unanswered questions. How much longer would they have to wait to get the answers?  
  
A/n: What did you think about the Sirius/Dumbledore conversation? This will be the plot of the second fic, along with other things, obviously. So, what are you doing reading my pointless author's note? Review already! 


	19. Destiny's Triumph part two

A/n: Wow, when I said review last time, I had no idea I'd get such a response! Thank you all SO much! My goal is to reach 100 reviews (a previously unreached goal) by the completion of this story. For two more chapters-well, one chapter and the poem-that's only fourteen more. Come on guys, don't let me down!  
  
Destiny's Triumph-Part 2  
  
Harry awoke suddenly. The room around him was quite dark compared to the late afternoon light it had been filled with when he'd fallen asleep. He sat up and put on his glasses, looking around. Everything around him seemed normal. The hospital wing was silent and still around him. Madam Pomfrey was nowhere to be seen. The Grangers were still by their daughter's bed. Mrs. Granger was sitting by her, watching her in silence, while Mr. Granger took his turn sleeping on the bed next to Hermione's.  
  
Try as Harry might, he couldn't seem to find the logic behind his waking up. No sound had startled him, or any dream as Madam Pomfrey had given him a Dreamless Sleep potion before he'd nodded off. He shook it off and was lying back down to return to his sleep when he heard a faint rustling from beside him.  
  
He turned his head and looked over. Hermione, who had before been lying on her back, was now on her side facing him. He was out of his bed and standing over her before he realized he'd moved. Mrs. Granger had put her hand on her daughter's shoulder and was calling back to her husband, "Dan! Dan, she's waking up!"  
  
Before long, all three of them were standing over her. Mr. Granger loomed tall in front of his wife, looking down at his daughter in concern. Mrs. Granger and Harry remained on the other side, watching Hermione with a blank expression. I knew she was going to wake up, he thought suddenly. It was why I woke up. But how could I have known that?  
  
Harry's search for an answer to his question ended as Hermione's eyes fluttered open. The first person she saw was Harry. His presence seemed to register with her, but she was confused and quickly rolled over onto her back again. She saw her parents.  
  
"Mum?" she whispered, her voice very faint and scratchy. "Dad?"  
  
"Oh, Hermione!" sobbed Mrs. Granger, wrapping her arms around a very confused Hermione.  
  
Hermione looked at her father, who was giving her a watery smile. "What's going on?" she asked. Harry barely heard her. Remembering the difficulty he'd had speaking when he'd first awakened, he picked up the glass of water by her table and handed it to her once Mrs. Granger had pulled back. Hermione accepted the water and drank some, but was still confused.  
  
"What's the last thing you remember, honey?" asked Mr. Granger gently, sitting down beside his wife on the edge of her bed.  
  
She seemed to be thinking. "Green light," she finally whispered, shaking her head a little like she was clearing away unnecessary thoughts. "A lot of green light . . . and I was in a lot of pain . . . Harry's voice and . . ." Her eyes widened. She looked over at Harry as though seeking confirmation that it had all been real. Harry nodded grimly.  
  
Hermione looked scared now. "What's happened since?" she asked, almost panicking. "Voldemort, where is he? And Ron . . ."  
  
All these questions were directed at Harry. Her parents tried to calm her down but she refused to be quieted before she got her answer. Harry tried to smile but felt more like crying as the events in the Chamber came back to him, unable to be held back any longer. "He's gone, Hermione. You did it. And Ron's safe. He's doing the best of us all."  
  
Hermione nodded. The memories had come back to her though and they could all see that she had become more distant than before.  
  
"Do you remember everything that happened?" asked Mrs. Granger soothingly, brushing her fingers through Hermione's hair.  
  
Hermione nodded, staring down at her hands. "What about . . ." she started to ask, then trailed off. She continued a moment later in an even softer tone. ". . . Lucius Malfoy?"  
  
This time Harry had no good news to give her. He shook his head. "They haven't caught him. They caught Wormtail, though, and Sirius has been cleared. The Ministry is pulling itself back together and they're catching all sorts of Death Eaters. It's just a matter of time before they get him, too."  
  
"Who is this Lucius Malfoy?" asked Daniel Granger, taking his daughter's hand. "I've heard his name a lot. What's his part in all this?"  
  
Hermione looked startled at her father's question. Harry answered his question. "Dumbledore wanted you to tell them what's happened," he said. Hermione said nothing to this. Harry decided not to press her and looked to her father. "Do you remember the man Arthur Weasley got into a fight with in Diagon Alley when you took Hermione to the bookshop?"  
  
Daniel seemed to be thinking. Slowly, he nodded. "The man that was insulting his family's financial status."  
  
Harry nodded. "That's him. His son is Draco Malfoy. You've probably heard Hermione talk about him." Harry and Hermione's eyes locked. Harry hesitated before saying aloud the thought that seemed to pass between them. "Draco's not like his father, though."  
  
Daniel seemed oblivious to the look that passed between the two. "Hermione," he asked, "did this Lucius Malfoy hurt you?"  
  
Hermione did not move for a moment, and then nodded. She didn't look at her father's reaction, but Harry did. He could tell the only thing keeping the man from saying anything in anger was his daughter's fragile state.  
  
"And the explanations begin. I should have known that they were of the inevitable sort-they would begin when they were ready, whether I gave clearance or not. I suppose it's time, then."  
  
Once again, Dumbledore had surprised them by entering without making a sound. He walked over and all of them focused on him. Dumbledore looked at Harry. "Why don't you and I go ahead and collect Ron and his family. We should give Miss Granger some time with her parents to explain what's happened. Then we can all regroup and the questions you all have will be answered. One step at a time, though."  
  
Hermione looked alarmed. "No. Please, I can't talk about it yet . . . I've only just woken up . . ."  
  
To their misfortune, Madam Pomfrey managed to arrive just in time to hear Hermione's last words. She stared at them all, shaking her head. "What are you subjecting these children to now, Headmaster? I mean no disrespect, of course, but Miss Granger is extremely weak. She is as weak now as Mr. Potter was when you first brought him in! She's up to nothing more than eating, drinking and sleeping."  
  
Dumbledore gave her a calming smile. "Now, Poppy, do calm down. Miss Granger has indeed been through a terrible ordeal, but I feel it's best to have such ordeals be spoken of while they are still fresh. It will only become a heavier burden later. Besides that, I think these children have waited long enough to find out about what has gone on. They've been at the center of it all from start to finish. No one deserves answers more than they do. Miss Granger can speak with her parents. Harry will walk with me to gather Mr. Weasley. Poppy, you look as though you could use a cup of tea. Why don't you go ahead and get Sirius for me, then go down to the kitchens and get some dinner."  
  
"Headmaster, do you intend to take every one of my patients out of here tonight? And I can't leave-I have others to watch!"  
  
Dumbledore continued to smile but there was now an order lurking in his cheerful tone. "Miss Granger should have some privacy while she talks. I will have Minerva watch over the other patients while you are gone. Go get Sirius, then tell Minerva to come down here. Okay?"  
  
Madam Pomfrey gave in. She shook her head, muttering about how no one would let her do her job, and turned to go do as the Headmaster had instructed. Hermione looked at Dumbledore. "Really, Professor, I appreciate what you're trying to do but . . . I don't think I'm ready to-"  
  
"Just tell them, Hermione," said Harry encouragingly. "They just want to help. You told Ron and I. I know more has happened since, but you can do this. Dumbledore made me do the same thing last year after Voldemort took me away from the Triwizard Tournament. It's hard, but it makes it easier."  
  
"Quite well worded, Harry," said Dumbledore. "Now, we should be leaving."  
  
Harry gave Hermione one last look over his shoulder before Dumbledore steered him from the hospital wing entirely. They waited silently outside the entrance until Sirius came out. He saw Harry and smiled, hugging him. Harry smiled back, glad to see his godfather out in public without having to worry about being captured and put back into Azkaban.  
  
The three walked along the dark corridors at a leisurely pace. Sirius and Harry followed Dumbledore, unsure of where exactly they were going. The walk was, for the most part, serenely silent, though every now and then Sirius would punctuate it with a question about Harry's well being.  
  
It turned out that they were going to Gryffindor tower. The Fat Lady did not require a password for once and swung open the moment she saw the Headmaster. They all climbed in the portrait hole and into Gryffindor common room. Harry felt relief at seeing the place he called home, decorated in all its red and gold glory. Fred and George were sitting in front of the fire playing a chess game with Ron watching silently when Sirius, Dumbledore, and Harry entered. They all looked over and Ron jumped up, running over to them.  
  
"Hermione's awake," said Harry, smiling. He was tired from having walked so far, but he didn't mind. Ron grinned and started for the portrait hole immediately.  
  
"Hold on, Mr. Weasley," called Dumbledore, looking amused. "I am glad you are concerned for your friend, but we left to give her some privacy while she informed her parents about recent events. I think she will need a little more time than what we've given her. Where is the rest of your family?"  
  
"We'll get them," called Fred. He grinned at Harry, shooting him a thumbs up. "Glad to see you, Harry!"  
  
"Yeah, way to go," chimed George. "Down with You-Know-Who!" He pumped his fist in the air and ran after his brother.  
  
Harry sat down in the chair Fred had occupied. Ron asked, "So how's she doing, mentally, I mean? Is she okay?"  
  
Harry nodded. "She's still pretty distant, but I think she'll be okay. She just needs time."  
  
Fred, George, Ginny, Molly, and Arthur Weasley all came back down the stairs. Arthur and Ginny gave Harry the familiar, "Glad you're alive" speech that Harry was beginning to tire of. Dumbledore finally let them all leave the common room.  
  
They walked back down at the same slow pace they'd gone up at. When they finally reached the hospital wing again, they paused outside the door. Harry waited for Dumbledore to go in and see if it was all right for the rest of them, but for some reason, Dumbledore looked at him. Harry, blinking in surprise, stared back. Soon, the others were looking at him too. He stepped forward, unsure of what he was supposed to do, and peeked around the doorframe. No conversation was coming from inside. All he could hear were faint sobs. He wasn't quite sure how to convey whether or not they should enter, so he ended up standing in silence, looking back at them. Fred and George shrugged past him and entered anyway, solving his problem.  
  
The rest of them headed in. It seemed that the entire Granger family had burst into tears since they'd departed. Hermione was crying into her mother's shoulder. Mrs. Granger was crying too as she hugged and attempted to console her daughter. Mr. Granger had his arms around them both and while he wasn't crying just then, his eyes were red as though he had been.  
  
Hermione looked up as they all came in. Harry caught her eye and she gave him a small, teary smile. He smiled back and came to sit at the edge of the bed. Ron followed him and the rest of them stood awkwardly around the others.  
  
Mr. Granger detached himself from the tangle of arms and tears and stood facing Dumbledore in an angry way. "What is being done to find this man- Lucius Malfoy?"  
  
"Everything possible, I assure you," said Dumbledore sincerely. "Believe me, the Ministry is aware of his involvement in these recent events and he is high on their most wanted list."  
  
"What will happen to him when he's caught?"  
  
"He'll be put into Azkaban, I believe. It's a wizard prison but it is much worse than any Muggle one. It's a place where all happiness is sucked from the occupants. Most go insane or kill themselves in a matter of years. If we are all lucky, the Dementor's Kiss will be performed, leaving Mr. Malfoy soulless yet still technically alive for the rest of his days."  
  
Mr. Granger nodded-though Harry doubted he understood most of this-his face still set in an angry way. "He'd better be, that's all I can say," he said, sitting down again and wrapping an arm around Hermione. Hermione had stopped crying and was lying down, staring in a blank way. Harry knew how she felt. He'd felt the same way at the end of last year when Dumbledore had made him talk. He'd wanted nothing more than to be left alone and he'd soon after gotten his wish. Hermione would not.  
  
"Now," said Dumbledore, "is everyone up to date?" He looked pointedly at the Grangers. Mrs. Granger nodded, still holding Hermione tightly. "Good. I'm sure all of you have many questions. Harry, Hermione, I think one question you most want the answer to is how Voldemort was killed."  
  
Harry nodded. Hermione stared. Dumbledore continued. "Draco sacrificed himself for you, Hermione. That left you with the same protection that Harry had when his mother died. However, Harry's protection is no longer effective against Voldemort. Voldemort took some of Harry's blood, along with it taking part of Harry's protection. As they both have the protection given by the same person, it will not work against each other- the different protections . . . cancel each other out, you may say. They are like two ordinary people against one another. Voldemort is not protected from Harry, nor is Harry protected from Voldemort. Do you follow me? Now, Hermione, someone different sacrificed himself to save you. You have a different type of protection that is effective against Voldemort. Both of you have protection, though; so neither of you can have the Killing Curse used against you. This is a terribly rare occurrence. I believe there have been two other documented cases of this since it was first discovered. Harry, what happened next?"  
  
Harry thought of the best way to describe it. "Voldemort attacked Hermione," he said. "He used Avada Kedavera. The green light formed this long beam between the two, levitating them."  
  
Dumbledore nodded. "Yes. That light was the Avada Kedavera curse. It connected the two that had the protection, slowly draining the life from both. The one whose protection was weaker would be destroyed. The one with stronger protection would be left alive, though very drained and with their protection gone. Sometimes both die."  
  
"So my protection was stronger than Voldemort's?" asked Hermione appearing overwhelmed and exhausted. She shook her head in uncertainty in weariness. Harry could see the fatigue in her eyes, along with another emotion he couldn't seem to place.  
  
"Yes."  
  
"But how? He's so much stronger than I am."  
  
"Stronger physically, perhaps. But this is not physical strength being measured. It is the strength of the protection. Voldemort took protection from Harry, so it was naturally not as strong. You got the protection in the way you were supposed to and you had just gotten it. That made it stronger. Voldemort held on until he was drained completely, then the curse reached him. He was killed."  
  
A thought seemed to strike Hermione. "I was passing out," she whispered. "It hurt so badly and I'd just given up. After Lucius . . ." She paused a moment, apparently fighting the memory. "After he attacked me with the Cruciatus Curse, I just didn't care anymore. I wouldn't say I wanted to die, but I was just so worn out from everything, I wanted to escape it any way I could. Harry kept me awake for about a minute. He got attached to the green light when he touched it, forming a three-way sort of triangle. It was as I was passing out, despite his efforts, that the green light just . . . exploded."  
  
Dumbledore nodded grimly. "You were not passing out, Hermione-you were dying." Dumbledore's words were punctuated here by a loud gasp from Mrs. Granger who once again grabbed Hermione tightly. Mr. Granger's expression remained set in a weary, horrified expression as he squeezed his daughter's shoulder lovingly. Dumbledore looked at Harry. "You saved her life, I would have to say. You kept her aware long enough for the curse to get to Voldemort first, though I must say it was an extremely close call."  
  
Harry nodded, showing no reaction to Dumbledore's words. He had known it down there in the cavern, even if Hermione had not. He'd known she was dying. It was why he'd made such an effort to keep her awake. He did, however have a question. "Why did I attach to the light by touching it?" he asked.  
  
"You attached because you had protection as well. If you had been an ordinary person touching it, you'd have been killed instantly. While your protection was not effective against Voldemort, I think you gave Hermione enough of your strength for her to fight him off those last few seconds. You saved her in more ways than one. I think it's the first ever three-way occurrence."  
  
This was news to Harry. He nodded, looking at Hermione out of the corner of his eyes. She was looking straight ahead.  
  
"Professor . . ." began Hermione slowly. Dumbledore gave her an encouraging nod. "My Dark Mark. It's disappeared-so did Draco's-and I don't know why. He said it was forever, even if he was dead." She looked down, but Harry could see her face. While it was obvious she was still highly discomforted speaking of it, he noticed that her face lacked the shame it had worn before. It seemed she was at least no longer blaming herself, something Harry was grateful for.  
  
"Ah, yes. This has been a much more complicated subject to look into. I can do nothing more or less than give you my best educated guess based on the materials I've read. I've never heard of any such case happening before. I have only a theory, but I do believe I'm accurate. You may have agreed to go over to the Dark side, but you were always on the Light side in your heart. That loyalty never wavered, I need not even ask such a foolish question. The mark on your arm symbolized evil in its purest form. Voldemort's presence on this planet was enough to keep the mark on you and the evil magic within you. However, he is now gone. There is nothing left to enforce the magic. Most Death Eaters are loyal to Voldemort even now. They are at the very least evil, whether they are still loyal or not. That keeps the mark on their arms, binding them forever to the Dark Magic. You, however, were never truly loyal. You only had that mark because you were forced to do so and even when you took it, you were doing so for what you believed was the only sake of the Light side. When He left, the magic of evil left you because you were not evil. The goodness within you was strong enough to drive it out. Does that make sense?"  
  
Hermione nodded slowly. "When we were connected . . . he and I . . . my arm was burning, right where the Dark Mark was. Harry's scar was too. I could see him clutching it." Harry nodded in agreement.  
  
"I would assume that was the process of the Dark Magic draining from you as Voldemort's life drained. Harry, of course, has always had a connection with the Dark Lord through that scar. I suppose he was feeling the pain Voldemort was and when Voldemort died, Harry's scar stopped hurting." Dumbledore smiled at them both. "Harry, I am quite confident in telling you that you will most likely never feel even the slightest twinge in your scar again."  
  
"What about Malfoy?" asked Harry. "If you had to have been loyal to the Light side all along to have the Mark removed . . . Malfoy was loyal to them once. How does he factor in?"  
  
"Yes, he was evil once. However, as I once told you, it is our choices that make us who we are, Harry. Draco chose a different path than the one predestined for him to take. That decision of his led him to that cavern with you. It led him to sacrificing himself for Hermione and ultimately saving both your lives and destroying the Dark Lord. He understood and changed entirely, even if it was in the last moments of his life. That action of good was enough to drive the evil away from him." Dumbledore paused and dipped his head respectfully. "Even if it was in the last moments of the boy's life."  
  
"Wait a minute," said Harry, holding up a hand, brow furrowed in thought. "You said this path was different than the one destined for him. So the prophecies weren't talking about him?"  
  
"They were," assured Dumbledore. "This was the desired outcome. However, every destiny can be changed. You could have walked the other way when I asked you to return to Voldemort-I gave you that option so you knew you would have it. While The Key was a necessary part of all this, any member could have walked away at any moment. Draco reached a fork in the roads. He chose the harder path, rather than the one everyone around him wanted and expected him to take. He changed his own future. This was foreseen, yes, but there were many other possible outcomes. It all depended on the choices made. And I do believe he made the right choices."  
  
Hermione remembered the Sorting Hat's words to her in the beginning of this year. "Could be good. Could not be good. That is entirely up to you. Do what you feel is right. Either way, you have a hard road ahead of you."  
  
"The Sorting Hat knew all this would happen when it chose me, didn't it?" asked Hermione, startled at this realization.  
  
Dumbledore thought about it. "Yes, Hermione, I would say it probably did. After all, it is made of the memory of the Founders. The Founders wrote the prophecy we went by. It would all fit accordingly, yes."  
  
"But why would it pick me?" she asked. "Mistake, I suppose? Anyone could have handled this whole ordeal better than I have. Gryffindors are supposed to have courage-I've been nothing more than a trembling wreck ever since this all started. Why didn't it pick Harry? He would have done better."  
  
Dumbledore shook his head, stern again. "No, I don't think he would have, meaning no disrespect to him, of course. The Hat sees things you and I cannot. It chose you because you could do what you have-make it through the whole ordeal successfully and alive. And you have lived up to Godric Gryffindor's name if anyone ever has. You've shown remarkable courage-both of you have, but you in particular. If all this had not scared you, it wouldn't be courage-it would be insanity. You have been terrified, pushed to the brink of what you are not capable of handling and you've survived it. That's something not many wizards can say at all, especially when speaking of Lord Voldemort. You have made the decisions you saw as best and it has gotten you through it alive. You've done an invaluable service to your peers, family and every wizard on earth. No one could have done as well. You were meant to do this, the Hat knew that. No one but you could have managed it."  
  
Hermione sat in silence through Dumbledore's speech. His words buried themselves in her mind and she began to see things as he did. It was a small window of sight, but now that it was all over, she was becoming more open to different perspectives on it all. She thought she liked Dumbledore's better.  
  
Dumbledore allowed them all to think about the words. "Now," he continued, "I do believe that covers all the pressing issues. Should anyone have any other questions, feel free to ask me in private. I think it's time we allow Hermione to rest. Harry, you may leave if you wish. Whatever Poppy says, I think you're ready to return to your dorm for another couple of days to rest there."  
  
Harry cast a sidelong glance at Hermione and shook his head. "I thank you for the offer-and be sure to tell Madam Pomfrey about it-but I think I'll stay here a while longer."  
  
As though she'd been listening in, Madam Pomfrey chose that moment to come sweeping in like a vulture, glaring at them all. While she toned down the vicious intensity of her glare when she looked at Dumbledore, it was by a small margin. "Is your little convention over, Headmaster? Am I allowed to do my job and treat my patients again?"  
  
Dumbledore smiled. "Yes, I do believe it is. That dinner looks like it did you a lot of good, Poppy. You appear much more energetic." She snorted huffily and walked away. Dumbledore caught Harry's eye and gave him a small wink. "Let's clear out, now. Harry, Hermione, you may stay. Mr. and Mrs. Granger, you're welcome to stay as well of course. You too, Ron."  
  
"Hang on, Mr. Dumbledore," said Mr. Granger, standing up. "I'd like to speak with you. There are still several issues I'm unclear on here . . . many terms you've used I'm not familiar with . . . And despite your reassurances, I still have some questions about this Malfoy man."  
  
Dumbledore nodded. "Of course. I'd be happy to discuss them with you both outside."  
  
Mrs. Granger stood up as well, but turned back to Hermione. She kissed her daughter on the forehead. "He's right," she said softly. "You've handled things most people twice your age couldn't have. You've made us extremely proud. All we want is for you to get better now, so do as the nurse says and get some rest."  
  
"We won't be gone long," assured Mr. Granger.  
  
Soon, everyone except Harry, Ron, and Hermione had cleared out of the hospital wing. Ron, sensing the tense silence between the two and the untouched topics hanging in the air which he had no part in, spoke up. "I'm going to get some breakfast," he said. "I'll come back in a little bit. Try and sneak some edible food in. I reckon you'll starve if you're made to live on the food here much longer." He bent down and hugged Hermione. "I'm glad you're okay. You've been amazing."  
  
Once Ron had slipped out of the hospital wing door, Harry and Hermione looked at each other. It was the first time they'd been alone since Hermione had woken up. There were several moments of awkward silence before either moved or spoke. Harry stood up and crossed the room where a window was. He pulled up the blinds, letting the first early rays of the sun in. When he came back, he sat on the side of her bed, closer than where he'd previously been, at her feet.  
  
It was Hermione who broke the silence first. "Thank you."  
  
He looked at her, mild surprise showing on his face. "For what?" he asked, truly puzzled.  
  
"For everything," she replied. "For saving my life down there, for protecting me at your own risk . . . just, everything. You've really helped me, Harry, in more ways than you know. I don't think I could have made it without your help and support. You're just as much responsible for the Dark Lord's downfall as I am. As Malfoy is."  
  
"Not really, Hermione. Even Malfoy had a bigger role than me."  
  
Hermione shook her head. "No. He helped a lot. He made up for everything he did. I forgive him and I wish he were here so I could tell him that. I hope he knew. But you've been just as helpful as him, whether you know it or not."  
  
Harry just shrugged. "I guess. Doesn't matter who did what now." The two lapsed into silence for a few moments. Harry broke the silence once more, his voice soft and certain. "He was wrong, you know."  
  
Hermione looked up, confused. "Who was wrong?" she asked.  
  
"Voldemort," said Harry. "He said love was a weakness. He was wrong, but at the same time, he was right. He was right when it came to himself. To him, love is a weakness. But to others, it's a strength. It was love that gave you the power to defeat him-that gave me the power to help. It was love that destroyed him because he was too evil to accept love."  
  
"He was wrong about something else," said Hermione, this time making Harry look startled. "He was wrong when he said your father would be disappointed in you. Your father would have been very proud, Harry. You did what your parents died trying to do-you defeated him and you did it because you were a good person. And you survived to see the next day."  
  
Harry felt his heart soar at these words. He'd never really thought about it, but he thought now that Hermione was right. His mother and father would have been proud of him. He felt a relaxed smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. "Thanks. It's over, 'Mione. We did it and he's gone. That's what matters now. It's all over."  
  
Hermione smiled at him and settled back onto her pillows. Harry put his arm around her and they unconsciously shifted closer. While the Dark Lord had left behind many wounds that needed healing, many of which would scar and become permanent blemishes on his victims, they were now presented with the opportunity to deal with them. Voldemort's reign had ended, after over two decades of terror. It would take months, even years to finally rebuild the lives and destruction he'd caused, but it could be done. And now they could do it without having to worry about him one day rising again. It was a feeling Harry had not known since he was ten, since before he'd gotten his letter. It was a feeling he liked.  
  
They said nothing more. There were many untouched subjects that would one day be brought up, but they'd said all they needed to for now. They watched out the window as the fiery orange sun peeked up from behind the most distant treetops, staining the sky a rippling mural of pastels and touching its first golden rays down upon the land.  
  
A/n: So, did you like it? *winces apprehensively* Good, bad, don't care? Tell me! And please do check out the poem, which will be up in a couple of days. I'd really like to know what you think. I have no confidence whatsoever in my poetry skills, so it's a gamble for me to post this. I just got bored one night and wrote it. Okay, I'll shut up now, if you'll review! 


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